By day, Smith works the sails. By night, he checks the stars. The sea is silent, calm. I sit on the floorboards, working on my transcendental trapezohedron device. I look up and see the constellations, but they are wallpaper. When I am hungry, Smith feeds me. Mostly I forget to eat. When I lift my face up to him, it is like a dream, I touch his cheek softly and run my fingers around the outline of his beard. I am ever thinking of my transcendental trapezohedron device. But my open eyes dream Smith, dream stars, dream calm seas. The eyes inside my mind work the internal lattice of a problem, and what I see outside my mind is a visual artifact I use as an abacus for meditation.
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on Friday, October 30th, 2009 at 5:35 am and is filed under couples, Poetry.
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I dig this poem.
Must admit I had to look up “trapezohedron” – don’t remember if I’ve ever heard that word before (I would think so, but maybe not) – but it’s always cool to learn/see something new.