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The Higgs Boson is anti-poetry,
Why aim to explain everything in math?
That seems to only be the easy way,
A method dull, static and hugely crass.

Where are the stars and seas and clouds and hills,
The snow-tipped mountain tops and herding flocks?
Will it explain the trees and turning ‘mills,
Or what happens to that missing sock?

The Higgs Boson is anti-poetry,
Will it destroy us, and all we can see?

They hope to explore it, to see it work,
Within a machine that ran two years late!
They’ll open a hole, with matter they’ll flirt.
Why not first enjoy the drift of a snowflake?

Take words or languages, or take a min-
ute, to write down words from a pen as it wept.
If it opens up and sucks us all in,
Who’ll be to blame? There’ll be no one left.

The Higgs Boson is anti-poetry,
Will it destroy us, and all we can see?

© Sam Cunningham, December 2009