Paula Jones


we are attempting
perfect harmony
mathematics of mind
divided by the philosophy
of slow breathing

there is still time enough
for divinity
locus of summer bodies
length of lazy arc
depends entirely upon
the arrowhead of fingers

Pythagoras forgot to mention
just the sum of all
and I’m tired of such
swift precision

semi-circles fit together
easily along
a slender line
we are closer to sky
each time we touch
although furthest from axis
and we know the formula
numbers don’t always dance
symmetry of our song
the only noise that makes sense

kaleidoscopic pattern of skin
hypotenuse of smile
the hemisphere of bone
the sequence of kisses
along a spine
and you in me
the ultimate reality


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