Avatar Review

Mindi Kirchner

The Law of Almosts

and not quites, you say, can apply
to the physics of anything;
even this drool-drip of desire
that falls from your tongue
like Newton's apple gone sour
and sickened on the twist of its own motion.

You say you'd love to spear
the time/space continuum
with toothpicks,
to deliver the slow splinters
of the passing over of things
no longer by miles,
but mere inches.

The hand you were meant to hold,
but brushed against instead,
in reticence. The hug you were meant
to give that weakened, in time,
into the friendly folds of a handshake.

So, it's not surprising you take his call
when he's trapped in the spider web
of roadways that lead to your house,
through streetlamp neighborhoods,
tiny worlds,
and all their slow-dancing particles.

And all you can think
is that no one belongs so adrift
in a place this small,
but just large enough --
everyone immersed in their odd orbits
you miss everyone entirely.

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