one dot six one eight

When I was young, and spiteful,

I held my brother’s toy through the window

and let it fall the shortest path,

headed for a six year old’s revenge.

I don’t know the laws that govern descent.

Regardless, they drive soft cotton flesh to meet

scraps of lawn

with sharp precision.

And there are laws that govern growth.

When plants grow towards the light they too

follow the path

which leads them soonest to their goal.

I see this on my sill,

a rose with golden sunlight on its green,

and golden numbers

in the spiral of its red

Beauty and efficiency can be kin,

but I do not see efficiency

in the down of your ear,

or the curve of your calf.

You could be governed by nothing so harsh,

even though I am falling for you

by the shortest path.

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