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  • Hannah Hinsch

The Physicist

Glacial air fogs your glasses—

I see you, perched atop, stakes

in blue frozen ground to measure

kinematic waves, trans: the way

ice moves

over years.

Slid into blue air, white-haired

snow-bird, you heed a throated call

to number, track atomic impact

over gray shores and rain-wet jungles

greater than

the speed of sound.

Variable wave number

and angular frequency fly

to frigid skies in ski-footed

helicopters—you, left to the sight

of your own warm

breath, as it


You remain, wandering

equations in the margins

70x7, number and word—


melt to green

inside each


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