I’ve edited a poem that I composed during my live writing session. It’s a great example of different ideas colliding in a way I could never have predicted: Lydia Nicholas asked me for a love poem about a futurist while I was standing in a gallery surrounded by Elizabethan art. The result is a Shakespearean sonnet about graphene.

Our love was first discovered by mistake.
A miracle, they said, like naught on Earth.
A graphene love. But what are we to make
Of this, this latticed accident of birth?

It's slippery, all surface and no side.
It transfers heat remarkably in tests
(Though hasn’t yet been practically applied).
It's speculative research at its best.

But graphene love's an unremitting matter,
As dangerous to grasp as any blade.
Its edges lacerate and smoothly scatter
All those who aren't miraculously made.

We break apart and wonder at the cause.
Our bonds are strong, but deeper are our flaws.

You can see the original version here