remind me your despair at such pinches,
spectacles always skiing needing heedful reseating
on that bunny slope between your eyes,
like a young king slipping sleeping
from his throne who startling to arrest the crown
from perilous angle, once gravity's averted sinks again
to unconscience's foamy ebb. such ductile
grapplers were bent for triangular waves,
not your subtle sine which erodes not
to any derivative, though to a degree it is approximable
by tracing three circles just touching,
outermost centers a nudge lower than the middle's,
and following in thick coal the leftmost's
lower curve, as a centrifugal train which switches
tracks to crest the central circle, then swoops
into the rightward's valley, but such construction
brings discontinuity to each curve's kiss, visible
at the second apostrophe, as when lips open
to speak but utter not, puzzling instead with pressures
ex and inhaled from gentle seat.


written in July