I whisper to the moon I’m lonely. She
smiles and yawns. I sing to stars how I long
for touch. Glittered meter of Pleiades
tells me they hear, signals love for my song.
I call out to spacetime continuum,
asking how long must I wait. Lark sparrow
chirps of patience as sign of faith, vast sum
of dark energy we feel in marrow
each time we close our eyes. I show Euclid
flaked walls of my narrow mind. He measures
their distance, grits his teeth, shakes his great head.
Then points at the earth, breathes in air. Treasures
surround us, his glance tells me. I watch him
dance off, humming a hymn to his theorem.
Roger Armbrust
November 6, 2008
