The Second Law

Poulami Somanya Ganguly

... half of what we write is determined by the structure of the language and half is chosen freely

— Claude Shannon

How long, you asked. What could I reply this time?
Too soon there is no reason to lie this time.

The sour breath of every second condensed,
tell me, you deities, did you cry this time? 

Blanched cards, stiff flowers, the occasional chant.
What are the certainties we’ll buy this time?

Bow to pictures, pray to return to the stars;
when each sunrise daylight skins the sky this time.

Memory, a disembodied message—
ears to tin cans, who can say why this time.

A glass jar that housed my heated demons—
let loose they won’t be pacified this time.

Love: a windowed home, its green panes smashed.
Perhaps we’ll learn at last how to die this time.

The target slips but the arrow zips its way:
Every theory has an alibi this time.

Letters interred, the bones of words insist—
No resurrection we can prophesy this time.

Each grain of chance a doubt accounted for,
no more no less, they will not multiply this time.

The heart turns, in circles getting smaller,
drawn to the same lullaby this time.

I wake to find the rose has bled its petals,
left its thorn deep in my eye this time.

The Science

Entropy in information theory is the average information content or "surprisal" of a message. The more surprising a message, the more information it carries. A poem is a message with high entropy as it constantly subverts our expectations about the next word. In my poem, I have tried to play linearity and circularity, inevitability and randomness, off against each other. Like the second law of thermodynamics, a ghazal moves us towards an end both inevitable and surprising. We move forward in time, inexorably towards death and disorder, but circle back to a place we've been before.

The Poet

Poulami Somanya Ganguly researches ways to coax meaningful information out of stubborn data. She lives and works in Amsterdam, but dreams about Kolkata, the city where she was born.

Next poem: The struggle is real by Les James