Elements

On my son’s desk lies
the periodic table of the elements.
I look. Amongst the arcane names
I recognise, easy as breathing,
carbon, oxygen, gold, beloved of kings.
He shows me how it’s laid out – from left to right
by increasing atomic number;
in columns, by similar reaction.

I think of alchemists, the early pioneers
first discovering these elemental secrets;
and Mendeleev, dreamer, scientist, placing
each element in precise and perfect order,
like the notes of a Bach fugue.

My son tells me
there were gaps within the table,
elements predicted, later found,
exactly right. Gods in white coats, now
we hold this map of universal matter in our hands,
and create new elements, each in their proper place
until the table ends.

I think: what if we could order
our lives like this,
emotion along one axis, action on the other,
step by step.
And if there must be absence,
we would know with certainty where it will be,
its shape, its substance,
and what we have to do
to fill it.

Antonia Kearton is an occasional writer of poetry, based in the Scottish Highlands. She has been published in various journals including Dust Poetry, Atrium, Black Nore Review and Northwords Now, and can be found intermittently on Bluesky as @antoniakearton.bsky.social