IF QUANTUM ENTANGLEMENT WERE A LOVE STORY
I’ll wrap your sound in a blanket
and give it back to you, my music
muse. Just to see you lying in the
leaves talking to me the way I lie
in the leaves and talk to you.
An instant connection masked as
a tell-all telling you nothing. We
are the particles 2,000 miles apart.
I keep coming back to the birch
trees in the moonlight. The flood
lights from the deck. My whole
body in the evening grass.
In my dreams, I move thoughts
easily. I do with you what rappers
do with words. I’m getting better
at cutting my own hair, I guess.
The innocence that sees myself
everywhere in everyone.
The electricity stretched so far
apart. You don’t even know me.
I tell myself it’s magic. Your ribs
move deeply. You’re breathing
or rapping. I don’t know which.
Our lives so separate, yet sticky.
My dress so sheer. You see my sigh.
Unwrap it, I say. Please rap it.
It hurts like a hummingbird.
By Amanda Adrienne Smith
Amanda Adrienne Smith is a poet and actress living in Los Angeles, CA. Her work can be found in Ghost City Review, Right Hand Pointing, and One Sentence Poems. You can find her on social media @amandaadrienne.