A Perfect Poem for Stephen Hawking

I go over the words

One by one

As if counting change

Naming stars

And animals

Until it’s perfect

Or perfect enough

But I’ll never really know

Art and truth

Will continue to argue

And wrestle

With angels

But what do they know

Those winged beings

We never see

But believe in

Like love

Wind

Perfect ideas

Invented by imperfect people

Sitting in wheelchairs

Theorizing the beginning

Of everything