By John Grey
Can you keep the 7
to yourself
here in this raging sea-storm,
or on the mountain side,
above the tree-line,
when your fingers are impatient
to be counting off
your sudden rise in heartbeats.
Can you adds 6 to your don’t
call list, and throw 5
overboard at the first
opportunity. Where vines
creep and dandelions bloom,
please no 9’s.
When we paddle
across the flat, calm lake,
leave ripples be,
especially number 4.
And, under willow shade,
comfy against trunk,
when I cross your borders
with an arm around your shoulders…
I know that 1 ‘s abound,
but leave them be
for my sake.
We’re hand in hand -squish 2
in your palm. We’re at the
supermarket. Yes, it’s a
crowd but it’s not 3. Driving
the coast road, you let your
hair go, why not your 8’s.
When winds twist,
snowflakes fall a little,
a wave splashes against
the rock you’re sitting on,
can you make peace
with the universe
and not be wound up
by its mathematics.
If you need a number
to get by on,
I’ll grant you 0.
It means well
even as it means nothing.