Geometry

life

can be whole

or hole, where half of the whole has been

stripped away, or mislaid

either way, the missing half, whether

good

or bad, leaves

a partial whole, something less than whole

wind & rain pour into

the open hole, comfort & pleasure

fade

so we work

to fill the hole, to make the hole whole

but the missing half was

one of a kind, all else is a square

peg

in a round

hole, time passes, margins erode, whole

lifetimes sputter without

finding the match to light the empty

space

where the hole

is, nota bene, the someone light-

ing the match must be some-

one new making a whole new whole, not

same

old, same old

such a trial to fill that empty hole

might it take forever

to make two halves whole? forget the damn

hole

another way

is not to let the whole fall apart

but that means putting up

with flaws, means life in a broken whole

Restraint

I never knew my grandmother

because my grandfather put her away

for her own good

                            some say

she was silent & sad, very sad

my aunt writes to the family

Mother’s been so unhappy

                                           last Sunday

Father took her to the home

she’ll be better off

why someone believes

incarceration improves a life

escapes me

                    what she allows

the tyrant to get away with baffles me

in the ’40s you could do that

lock people up for being inconvenient

he prefers another

                              yes, my mother knows

he tried to seduce her too

my grandmother steps away

leaves him be, refuses to speak

to him

          she’s depressed, he says, no

says my mother, she’s mad, for a reason

locked away my grandmother escapes

everything

                 she doesn’t speak or move

she gives them her body

to clean & dress, feed & medicate

the separating power of space

                                                 she

disappears, like toes inside a stocking

like nits in a raccoon’s fur

the space where she flies free

Matters & Facts

snow melt bares a winter meadow

pillowed blades of yellowed grass

russet streaks, stripes of silvery green

the filmy sky, the wind-downed trees

patchy with pale frilled lichen

old wood cloaked in glowing moss

ahead a mile-long glacial ridge

diagonal thrust, squared columns

plates of ice cling to the ridge face

gravity’s trickle, black slicks of seep

fallen rock, visible roots, hidden

hollows rubble the unmarked path

I take, the matters & facts of earth

so much more than I can see