Huge granite ball sculpture perfectly round,
with its twin cloved in quarters adjacent.
I run my hand over the smooth surface of the first,
gauging perfection-sit between the split pieces
of the other, somehow more familiar:
how we are opened, no matter the density,
the desire to remain whole, unaffected.
Then, running my hand over the pillared arch
nearby-fashioned like the number Pi-I feel
the endless decimals of my life stream out to sea:
an equation unresolved. I am nothing but metaphor
& bone wrapped in skin. How else to explain
the passing of days, the wonder, each gorgeous
uncertainty?