Perfect squares: A poem

Photo of a church ceiling
Doug Scortegagna/Creative Commons

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1.

Run or hide be               –                 tween

squares of sand

between toes

bruised by

rough earth.

I’m quite aware of each grain

as it also grinds in my                                  mind.

Silicon dioxide births the glass

that reflects us but what else does it reflect?

Does it reflect the time where beaches

were empty and screens full?

My                    mind

                                     is not here though. 

Not in the squares of glass.

It is in the sand. The water’s attendant

as it rescinds its visiting.

 

 

2.

My mind

 

is not

in                    these perfect squares.

 

They         are           empty

space                           with 

grains   of                    color

not        of                   sand.

 

 

3.

My body is

here with the glass, though,

but

my

mind

       is

              in

                     transition.

4.

Perfect squares do not

occur in nature.

They are mathematical constructs.*

Yet, we are enclosed 

in them daily.

*Ordering the

disorder with numbers.

Contact Daniel Orona at [email protected].