With the seal of science
on your forehead,
like the old Good Housekeeping
Seal of Approval,
I believe what you tell me
about cells and molecules,
though I can’t see them.
And though the language you speak
is full of numbers and symbols
I’ll never understand;
though your tie is askew
and your hair unruly, still I believe
what you say about the size of the universe,
which is either expanding or contracting,
I’ve forgotten which already.
So if tomorrow you tell me
you made a small miscalculation,
that God indeed created the world
in 6 short days, then rested on the 7th,
that it was Eve who landed us
in all this trouble, I would believe you.
I would believe you
as I’ve always done before.
When I saw Linda Pastan at the Poetry Festival several years ago, she said that she, “Wrote from the Eve.” In this poem, you see her writing both from “the Eve” and from her own perspective. In this poem, she seems to be using Eve as a means of speaking about herself, which is a beautiful self-distance.