Time Reversibility

Wednesday, January 8

“Diagnosis in Reverse” from 32 Poems by Kate Gaskin:

First, the witch turning from the door
made of spiced cake

and sugared almonds. Then the birds
offering the bread back

to the forest floor, the children
skipping backwards into the gaunt

yawn of the house as the mother’s
long hunger begins

to soften, her hearth dark with smoke.
And then a spark,

the children in the back orchard
eating apricots heavy

with juice. Pale cream in a bowl. A vase
of primroses. Foxglove stirring

outside the open window. The father
coming up the summer path, easy

with evening. Hansel humming.
Fresh bread and long light, long light.

---

If you take the B-theory of time seriously, then however much goodness there is in the world, the first derivative of it is always zero. Anything that gets worse is just something that, in reverse, is getting better. Anything that gets better is, in reverse, getting worse. We have no reason to privilege later states over earlier ones, and vice versa.

In an admittedly inconsistent style, I find this fact reassuring when I fear things getting worse, and simply don’t think of it at all when I notice them getting better.