The Mathematics of Absence


i measure her time against mine
two soft breast-curves of days
where y is what we know
and x is what will be


i lounge on time like a hammock
today she handed me a wooden egg
her first present
my first gift
and here
our courses intersect

her curve is sleek, an asymptote approaching infinity
while mine approaches zero
stalls, lays low
and watches the sky in wonder
contemplating distance.

Trevor Landers

If you've any comments on this poem, Trevor Landers would be pleased to hear from you.