long division
there are 51 ways to leave your lover
but only if you’re good at math
a tree learns early on that survival
depends on your ability to bend
the penultimate beat of a dying heart
echoes perpetually through its last
odd numbers belong to odd people
and we’re all stuck at seventeen
being less than whole takes up more space
than the chance of being well rounded
there are zero degrees of separation
between you and your last neighbor
if you look into the eyes of pi
you will meet eternity’s maker
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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo.
Also joining in with PAD (poem a day) over at Writer’s Digest.
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April 21st, 2014 at 9:52 pm
There are beats, heartbeats, here that will echo, sublime, forever in my own heart.
April 21st, 2014 at 10:24 pm
ha. some fabulous word play…being a math teacher, i def appreciated…but also the rather interesting note underneath it all..if a tree band perhaps division is not needed…smiles.
April 22nd, 2014 at 2:31 pm
Yes, there are indeed zero degrees of separation between me and my last neighbor…I bumped into him at the airport in Phoenix, about 600 miles from home, and then it turned out his seat was beside mine on the plane, too.
April 23rd, 2014 at 4:14 am
another gem ~