Posted by: trisigmatic | September 24, 2016

Conic Sections

You look at those words and see hyperbole,

a meaning not meant,

and your eyes slide past.


And maybe you’re more right that you know,

because the shape of my life is a lesson in shallow cuts,

a locus slanted against the normal plane.


And if once I was born and bound like you

don’t overlook

the derivative slide away,

or that we only meet, and speak

in the bright blaze of perihelion.


I won’t be there long.

I’m going hyperbolic.

Don’t expect me to stop.

And don’t expect to see me back.


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