The Philosophers

You asked if I believe we have free will.
I failed to say but feel compelled to write:
I may not mean to, but I love you still.

We didn’t know yet who would grab the bill
or whether you’d move back your morning flight.
You asked if I believe we have free will,

and we debated, over a Pinot spill,
rumors that quantum theory says we might.
I may not mean to, but I love you still.

Chance is the sergeant of an endless drill:
that’s what I choose to think. (But is that right,
you asked.) If I believe we have free will,

I’ll feel brave leaving, though I’ll stay until
I cave to instincts that I claim to fight.
I may not mean to. But I love you still,

and sometimes smile with an impromptu thrill
at what we did, at what was done, the night
you asked if I believe we have free will.
I may not mean to, but I love you—still.

• About
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Austin Allen

Austin Allen’s debut poetry collection, Pleasures of the Game (Waywiser Press, 2016), was awarded the Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize. His poetry has appeared in The Yale Review, The Missouri Review, The Sewanee Review, 32 Poems, and other journals. He has taught creative writing at Johns Hopkins University and the University of Cincinnati.

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Author: Austin Allen

Austin Allen’s debut poetry collection, Pleasures of the Game (Waywiser Press, 2016), was awarded the Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize. His poetry has appeared in The Yale Review, The Missouri Review, The Sewanee Review, 32 Poems, and other journals. He has taught creative writing at Johns Hopkins University and the University of Cincinnati. View all posts by Austin Allen