They exist scientists say. Schrodinger’s cat,
both alive and dead, inhabits the same box
in a multiverse where all possible histories,
futures are happening. In another dimension,
you are happy at your dream job. The family
doesn’t break up. You win the award. No one
wants for love or money. It is like this poem:
quantum entanglement, sub-atomic particles
in two places, at once, says simultaneously
you are reading this, but also trying to recall
years later, a poem you read about parallel
universes. The poet forgotten. The details
obscured, yet steeped in new significance
because a poem feels more real than life,
at times. Maybe you meet someone who
looks like you, a doppleganger. Or you
find yourself haunted by thoughts you left
unspoken, actions you did not undertake.
You are worried about choices you made.
Quantum mechanics provides another
library of possibilities: you moved back to
Montreal. You went to law school. You
never wrote a single poem ever. Truth
is irrelevant when science says it is all
happening. Cancer is cured. Wars end.
The dead are alive. You are here.
By Chris Banks