I may not be a physicist, but I know an atom’s electrons spin opposite, half to half, positive to negative. What this means is even at matter’s most basic, we’re asymmetric. Biologists claim we’re bilateral, like planaria cut in two, though it’s all a ruse: dimorphic logic for a superficial answer to similarity and difference. No, our (a)symmetry isn’t split into re- cursive flatworms or clams or any class of invertebrates, our matter isn’t the hemolymph of beetles or grasshoppers or praying mantises that wave hello from my backdoor gable. What if I said everything was chaos composed of subatomic particles, the smallest gyrations counter- counter-clockwise, halfway left, halfway right? No need to believe me to understand the truth: What truth? I’m not the first to say life is a perception of reality. Our bodies exist because we make them. Scientists are simply masters of justifying their observations through repetition—but all I know, lies.
Dani Putney is a queer, non-binary, Asian American poet exploring the West. Their work most recently appears in Cold Mountain Review, The Shore, and Thin Air Online, among other publications. Presently, they're infiltrating a small conservative town full of cowboys in the middle of the Nevada desert.