Janet Kuypers

Livermorium, Periodic Table of Poetry poem by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

by

Livermorium

by Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#116, Lv; Ununhexium, eka-polonium)

For so many years,
you’ve gone by another name,
and then you seem surprised
when people don’t know who you are.

You’ve wanted to be known,
and I’ve known you for years,
but I’ve noticed that as time passes,
as you grow,
you move farther
and farther
away.

You’ve tried for so long,
and over the years,
in our efforts to synthesize
we’ve had some successful reactions,
some failures to react —
and I know that some attempts
have not even been made,
but at times these attempts at fusion with you
seem far too hot for me to handle.

And really,
I assume
they’re too hot
for you too.

Maybe your half life is just so short
that I never know what to do with you.
And I’ll never know what you’ll do next.

In our past four creations,
this quantum tunneling
has been something
I don’t think I can take any longer.
And I’m sorry, but
you’re insufficiently stable,
and you’ve never let me confirm
the true weightiness of your soul.

So,
maybe you should go your way,
and I should go mine.
I know your possible chemistry,
and I know you want to share your soul
with the entire world.

I know this.

And I’m sorry,
but I’ve grown tired,
and know
you’ll continue to grow without me.

So yes,
you should go your way,
and I should go mine.
Maybe one day,
you will truly find
what you —
and the world —
so desperately needs.

Francium, “Periodic Table of Poetry” poem by Chicago poet Janet Kupers

by

Francium

by Janet Kuypers

of Scars Publications
from the “Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#087, Fr)

Thinking of you,
I’m reminded
of someone taking his mother’s guns
and killing her in an elementary school,
then taking out twenty children,
then five more adults,
before taking his own life.

Remembering your destructive ways
reminds me of going to a movie on opening night
before someone walks in,
cloaked in dark clothes
setting off smoke bombs
before killing anyone he could.

Your metallic personality,
you and your radioactive ways,
you decayed anything you touched.

So you wonder why I correlate you
to any and all destruction,
the way you’d be the instrument of death
by slamming so much fuel,
so much metal, so much life
into the tallest building you could find,
killing anything that crossed your path.

And yeah, I’d correlate you
with the government claiming to play nice
while you helped over eighty faithful followers
disintegrate in a fiery cataclysm.

I’ve seen what you can do.
I can’t help but make the connections.

In such a short burst of time,
you’ve killed seven
in a Sikh temple.

I’ve never seen you for long enough
to think I can know what you
might be like in bulk.
As I’ve said,
I’ve only seen you in these short bursts.

But oh,
what you’ve done
in those
short
bursts.

I think it’s funny
how you unintentionally
chose Hitler’s birthday
to kill thirteen teens,
injure over twenty more,
on an otherwise average school day.

I know, I know you’re rare,
but when I see you,
the world sees you,
and we can’t forget.
I know it’s such a little amount of you
that exists at any time
throughout the entirety of the Earth,
and I know others
have tried to create you synthetically,
to try to learn from you,
but those amounts have still been too small
to make any difference.

It’s sad, that this is the way
you normally are —
your instability make me think
that you just can’t be real—
and I know that your rampages
usually last no more than twenty,
maybe as long as twenty-two minutes.

I’m just afraid
that you are becoming
more and more common in life.

After all of these years,
you have always been rare,
but your repeated appearances
in our lives scare me.
I know that with you, everything falls apart
so suddenly, so quickly so violently.
How much longer
will we cross our fingers,
while we anticipate
our next chance encounter?

Lead, periodic table poem from Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

by

Lead

by Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#082, Pb)

I walked into the bedroom,
opened the closet door,
pulled out the cardboard box,
then opened it to pull out
a pistol case.
I set the piston case down,
opened it,
saw the unloaded twenty-two
and the filled magazine.
I held the magazine
filled with Lead bullets,
reminding myself
that it was always an option.

There’s so much more weight
in those Lead bullets.
They feel heavy in my hand.

Then again,
Lead aprons to protect you from x-rays
are heavy, too.

Lead is so common,
used for thousands of years,
from the Bronze Age,
pushing the Roman economy.
The name for plumbing
even comes from the Latin
“plumbum” because
Lead pipes were used.

And after all these years,
Lead’s not even used
in lead pencils,
that writing stylus
is just a lead mockup. . .

Because Lead comes
from the decay of uranium,
and sometimes could be radioactive,
but still, it can protect you
from things like x-rays
or even nuclear contamination.

So yeah, it can protect you,
and it can also be the missile
in an instrument of death.

As I said,
These bullets
feel so heavy
in my hands.

Iodine, Periodic Table poem by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

by

Iodine

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#053, I)

I saw a science fantasy show once
where a man made entirely out of tumors
could only regenerate himself to survive
by submerging in a bathtub of Iodine.

Now I’m not a tumor, I’m only human,
but I have to remember that you’re good for me,
you and you violet vapors,
we’ve just got to find out ways
to keep you with us as long as we can…

you’re rare throughout this Universe,
but lucky us, here on planet earth,
we’re the one with the water,
and you seem to be all over our oceans.

Lucky us, we need your nutrition,
and we need you to help us heal…

But as I said, you’re rare in the Universe,
which means you’re rare on this land.
And if we can’t get enough of you,
it might be an intellectual disability.

But you help me see right down to my bones,
and I don’t want to lose my faculties —
or what makes me me —
if I don’t have you.

You’ve disinfected my cuts and sores,
we’ve used you in medicines,
and… I’m sorry.
You may be rare in this Universe,
but I know how good you are to me,
and I don’t want to let you go.

 

Bromine, Periodic Table poem by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

by

Bromine

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#35, Br)

You’ve stopped the fire in me.
Oh, the zone you’ve tried to pull,
leaving a stench in your wake.

You wanted to stop my shaking.
You wanted to sedate me.
But I’ve learned better —
        you’re just so unsafe
that no one thinks you’re good.

You’ve been so corrosive to me,
and I know I haven’t seen you around,
but I’ve been trying to tell you:

You have no purpose for me.

The only thing you may be good for
is killing the vermin around me,
but at this point in the game
I’d rather keep things living,
so please, keep your distance.

Your toxicity depresses me,
and when you sneak into my drink
you cloud everything instead.

You think you make things
picture-perfect,
but trust me, that argument
is not enough for me.

So please, don’t poison me.
Please, don’t burn me.
Just let me get some fresh air again
and get you away from me for good.

Touching Cobalt, Periodic Table poem by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

by

Touching Cobalt

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#027)

We toasted our anniversary
with Cobalt blue champagne glasses
after we looked over the Cobalt
and tungsten wedding bands.

Seems fitting,
since I am so attracted to you,
that we’re drawn to Cobalt,
one of the most magnetic elements.

I heard a physicist explain
that when two solid objects
are pressed together
they never actually touch.

Now, I can’t imagine it,
but maybe,
because electrons repel
all objects remain one molecule apart.

That must be why,
when we embrace
I want to hold you
tighter and tighter —

because I want to defy
the laws of physics
and feel that contact with you
as long as I possibly can.

Because right now
I don’t care about electrons,
keeping us one molecule apart.
Because…

When it comes to Cobalt,
it’s 27 protons and 32 neutrons
are would tightly together
with a strong nuclear force…
Its nucleus’ binding energy
is so strong,
that it only breaks apart
once it is broken down
into its isotopes.

It won’t break apart
in it’s pure form.

Kind of like us,
I suppose,
how we seem to be
so bound by physics.

Physicists say
that solid objects
can never actually touch.
And I’m sorry,
but when it comes to us,
that just can’t be.
Because I want to experience you
with all of my senses.
I want our molecules to intermingle.
I want us to actually touch.