Being Shapes

Shapes occasionally gaze

at one another with affection –

breaking through the circumspection

which describes how most of them

retain their measured stasis –

to sustain the treasured basis

of their curves or angles, swells

or swoops, cantilevered edges

or baroque entangled loops.

But two may snatch a glimpse

of one another on the sly, catch

each other’s eye, release a plaintive

longing sigh before they separate

to go again about their business

of supplying us with certainties

of volume and circumference – permit

the world to seem as if it’s making sense –

promote the myth of density and fixity

of form with all its rational detachment –

avoid the risk of passionate

attachment’s rash escapes.

It isn’t easy being shapes. 

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