cannonballs

we float

      arc’d

  we are

     calculated mid-flight

        our past:  a curved conception

          of perfect beauty

               we are

                  an equation

                    our present:  a sum

                       of averaged and intangible points

                         and infinite tangents

                           described

                            with perfect beauty

  

                                we are

                                  a mathematical purity

                                    our future:  ordained

                                      by the plane which cuts

                                       our paper hats.

                                        parabolae.

                                         we are parallel.

                                         para- ll -el.

                                        parallel. 

                                      infinite in

                                     approachment

                                    rapprochement

                                   reproachment

                                  but always

                                 and finally               

                                unable  to  touch

                           at apogee burned, blinded by light

                         wings already melting.

                        at perigee, in ageless dark

                       stuffed down the barrel; buried

                     near the target

                    and  So  so    cold.

                  subject to

                the gravity

              of the situation

           surrendering to the fall

            

            arc’d

like cannonballs