Squares

I love these little squares,
their dimensions arbitrary
but my conformity
to them decidedly not.
I curl up in their threads
cold and aimless, once.

I love these little squares,
cubic corpuscles
that seem as perfect
as a concept, even though
they are carbon based
like the rest of us.

I love those little squares,
nets woven with imaginary
wire with which anglers
can troll for whatever
they please, canned tuna,
Kraken or Scylla alike.

I love little squares,
boxes made for breaking, or
a blanket built for covering
the ocean entire, for without it
swimming seems unsafe,
at least to me.



D. Hartley