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Define

Poetry & Prose | November 13, 2012

I’ve been wanting you to have this forever,
But what is it anyhow?
It may not be anything at all—
a fragile and failing attempt
to pull it all together.
Wrap it in tissue paper.
Tied bows.

Enough to keep it locked in a bubble—here it has a mass.
You can hold it in yours hands. Perhaps…

Put it up against your face.
Is it soft?
How does it feel? I can’t tell.

One thing that exists in the world of you
and me, and our togethered sum

that we can’t make three dimensional.

We use protractors to measure angles.
We use scales to measure mass.
Gravity’s volume. That exists, doesn’t it?

Confirming to ourselves that everything is, still is…
Check, re-check, check again.
We doubt all these calculations in the end.

Follow a complicated procedure.
Add things. Take things away.
Cool, combine and separate things.
You’re left with strands of something that makes you, you.
See them with bare eyes- a fleeting thing at best.

Touch it and it dissolves.
No need to check.
Doubt it—gamble and laugh at it.

Trust that something that can’t possibly exist
Does.