Winter 2005-6

Susan Terris


Where sharpness is valued, where everyone
is linear and looking for an angle, think
about the spiral, blushing, turning inward,
careless curves ignorant of what may come next.

Dear Uriel- you surface again-
I'm sorry I have taken your name in vain,
made you into an object and used you
for non-linear purposes. In this
place, there are no corners, just roundness,
like the paper I found last week
at Staples, slick and missing all its corners.

Oh, angel, this is a circular maze, puzzling,
and profoundly red. So take my hand. I will
guide you, and we will go then into
the fire, deep then deeper and, again, deeper.




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