...

Radial

I can’t draw a straight line
bodies aren’t lined

yet there’s a course to round
if my hands draw thighs

suggesting the St. Louis Arch
the same Cassiopeia at night as in

the slatted light in your bedroom
egg cartonned a captive grace

enough for expansion
as a road to a mountain

and maybe from obscurity
through the inadequacy of straights

your delicate smile appears.