Equations

My left door won’t open.

I hear fish under my wheels.

For four days I have water on the brain.

There seems to be an answer in the clear liquid,

amenable, able to flow

through strangely shaped spaces—

I know there is a wisdom in transparency

as in the mathematic perfection

of my cat moving so slowly

I can see the lines extending off her

to points in the universe

which hold her perfectly.