2 September 2003 | Vol. 3, No. 3

Euclidean Senses

If a point is that which has no part,

and my lines of breathless length

extend beyond the ends of the lines

given me by birth, then Miss Hammons,

my sophomore Geometry teacher,

was the plane surface of my teenage years.

We were a plane angle of a sort, inclined

to one another in a plane not lying in a straight line.

Her husband might know, or worse, she herself

might find out, seeing as the whole affair

was obtuse, mind as wide as my glands.

She had such acute angles, tight curves meant

for a brand new drivers