Dave Bonta's "Physics" borrows the language of a math or science class, then bends it toward longing. The opening command, "solve for y," sounds like homework, but the next line asks what ground comes to matter, and "ground" starts to mean something larger: footing, origin, the place we stand. The speaker wants to be taught. "I will learn the multiplication of noon" turns a daylight hour into something that can grow, as if understanding the world might make it brighter.
The strongest moment is the request to be instructed "in the nature of the nature / that we fell from." The repetition suggests a nature behind nature, and "fell" hints at a lost home or lost belief. The poem ends without finishing its sentence: the unknown x is so obscure that it is "like an old bass viol," a deep, low, hard-to-reach sound. The mood is humble, curious, and a little wistful. The speaker seems to ask for answers while accepting that the equation may never fully resolve.