A Phosphorescence

I discovered phosphorescence one day

clearing pine needles from an acre plot

in the mountains. I raked and scratched

large piles, then became obsessed with the base

of one tree, raking harder and deeper until black,

matted clumps of needles came up to reveal a glow.

Fire, I thought, afraid for the forest. But no smoke,

no burn smells. There could be light without fire,

like that moment of warmth I mistook for fire,

a gentle touch on your arm that was light

and would be no more than that.

Copyright © 2024 by James Cervantes. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 11, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.

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“‘A poem thirty-five years in the making,’ a blurb might read. In truth, my witnessing of ‘A Phosphorescence’ occurred thirty-five years ago, much as described in the poem’s first eight lines. Year after year, I would write out the experience but would then get stuck. Last year, I revisited the definition I found online: ‘light emitted by a substance without combustion or perceptible heat;’ [but this time I read its application] in physics: ‘the emission of radiation in a similar manner to fluorescence but on a longer timescale.’ So that emission continues after excitation ceases. Finally, I had the poem!”
—James Cervantes