Geometry

I watched your back as you strode

the horizon's infinite triangle

sturdy limbs retreating you,

whose palms, knees had never

rectangled my torso, thinking

of the gaze never concentric,

heart-kisses stuck on teeth.

You vanished in perimeters,

clogged areas of strangers...

I winced, wondering, “what is the

square root of twelve hundred nine?”

the date on which we met, or

“how to measure the tiny seed which,

\sprouting, made love to our doom?”

A yellow isosceles lit the ground;

I bisected it bitterly, thinking,

love must be amorphous,

like water, like white doilied foam –

can only be contained only by

huge polygonal stone.

I sensed the swing of your

fleshy unclasped hand

a starfish from the ocean,

that diamond we never swam.