Your body is a year,
approximating nothing, not
rounded off, concise. I
collapse &inflate through
weeks, hunt the minutes
in war paint with dark eyes.
I spray from the days
like shrapnel, scattering,
drink each moment as if
it were saltwater, or milk.
Monday is a month,
Wednesday is a weapon,
Friday is purgatory, Saturday
superstition. Sunday is a
seismograph, 7 on the Richter
scale, hillsides slide. You
oxidize steel & chip at
concrete till only dust &gravel
clutter the ground with their
Perhaps we can be mixed, meshed,
poured into something new. But I
cannot deal with the debris. You are
not water-soluble, we are immiscible,
why must everything be so polar?
Your ions excite my carbon lips. Let our
bodies triple bond, share orbitals. Sigma
allows rotation. I need rotation. Derive me,
lay tangent to my curves, distance is speed
X time &I want to be so close your
electrons push away from mine.
But you are hyperbolic,
appear to touch but don’t,
indefinite. I cannot take the
waiting- stretched out, I am
a circle, no sides. I am a name
given to something incomprehensible,
I am pi.