he found a wizard
made of wax,
dismissed his magic,
lit his staff,
a wick to burn while long
she studied
science for a truth
made muddy
by Schrödinger and Heisenberg,
by Albert E. and Hubble.
She wondered as
the light burned low,
the magic wax a puddle,
if, perhaps, she’d erred in faith,
for if two photons
found entangled,
are not by hidden spells enabled,
then how might one explain it?