Countdown

Five.
I’ve never understood the golden rings,
when the number five has always been
more like a hand lifted in
the expression of unarmed proof
or perhaps halt.
Four.
Two plus two or two times two,
the number of the perfect square
and easiest square root.
Three.
My mother used to use this as
the number of warning,
the signal that enough is enough
and it is too much.
The sign of the love triangle
or perhaps the perfect bridge,
since haven’t we all dealt with it
as part of growing up?
Two.
How many we have of eyes and ears, arms and legs.
The number of perfect symmetry.
The number of beauty to that extent,
but any engineer would tell you about
the inherent instability to this number.
It is unreliable. A myth of a digit.
Perhaps this is why it is how fingers
rise to indicate peace?
One.
Singular sensation.
Alone.
Everything is divisible by it.
Everything is composed of it.
And everyone knows how it feels:
end of the line
or perhaps,
the beginning.

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About E

Even as a child, I read voraciously. Writing has always been a natural outlet. Sometimes bordering on macabre or edgy, I was not always safe and even today I look at some of my writing and raise an eyebrow. Read me at your own risk. I am but a 30-something professional (don't ask a professional what, for I won't answer!) who spends nights as a dreamer and sometimes writer.
This entry was posted in 2016, poetry, random thoughts and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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