The Superposition of the Atom

DC Comics, Nov. 1963, Atom #9,
The Atom’s Phantom Double

The tension of life is always death
and the twilight between the two

worlds. A phantom twin lives
inside. The day he comes out,

one of us must die.
Imagine a steel box with a cat

living in this four-cornered void
with a small vial of hydrocyanic acid,

an amount smaller than my eye,
and what will happen if it spills.

If the vial breaks, you see, it kills the cat.
The cat could live forever with this vial,

if I never look in the box,
or it could die quickly;

the vial could break within seconds.
But I never know if I never look

and the cat is forever dead
and alive. My phantom has existed for years

in limbo, believing life would be more
pastel if he were paying the bills,

sweating through rejection,
or figuring out what tie to wear

as Ray Palmer. I never know
if he’s there or not, until jealousy

gets the better of him and he comes
out of paradox into a scene,

for which, there is no future.
You can’t blame him, though;

imagine being the cat, your life
determined by who looks inside the box.

Wouldn’t you want to decide for yourself,
whether you could be your own hero

or nemesis? Don’t we all pray for the gaze
of some god who looks like us,

having mercy on what is seen?
How ridiculous my phantom looks trying to know

whether he’s alive, standing translucent—
a mere shell of me on the inside—

trying desperately to look inside his own box.