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




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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