Uncertain Equations

by Cheyenne Zaremba


I am not a poet,
but I can write you a poem.
I am not a map,
but I can take you home.
The iambic feet of pentasyllabic
meter doesn’t make sense to me
which is why I write poetry.
I don’t comprehend
the logic of longitudes
or the properties of the equator,
hence I am a navigator.
Distance? Speed times time
is not an equation that fits
in my mind—too full
of stress(ed) and
unstressed syllables.
Compasses have never
offered me as much
comfort as a pen has,
but even that doesn’t compare
to the cartography of thoughts
that I can’t map.
The topographic landscape
my mind inhabits
is contoured in fathoms
and fathoms
of archaic archeological
memory I can’t interpret
for myself,
but for you
I don’t even have to try.
I can calculate time
in the blink of an eye
because there’s no distance
my mind cannot cover
when it’s speeding
towards the presence
of an other.
My inability to grasp
my own faculties is an advantage
to anyone besides me.
I cannot interpret rhyme
or even keep time
with the beat of this pulsating
landscape, and these words
seem to only fog a mirror,
but on the other side
for you
they make things clear.
My own self-revelation
cannot lead me to my destination
because I do not see
the reference key
and am unable to differentiate
you from me.
My words feel arbitrary,
but on the contrary
I know they form
a cohesive constellation
of constants for you—
they are the stars,
I am the darkness.
You cannot see me
because we haven’t
met yet—just like
dark matter and physicists.
I am not a poet,
I am just energy that
doesn’t quit
obeying Newton’s First Law—
never resting.
I am not a map,
I am astral projection
that is completely inept
and filled with uncertainty,
but in my words
you seem to find
and for now
that is enough for me.



Cheyenne Zaremba studies Communication at Roberts Wesleyan College. In addition to writing, Cheyenne enjoys creating art, playing ukulele, and spending time outdoors.