as tears well

(it’s funny that tears
well most well
when I am not well)

up in my eyes
and they go all limpid

I limp around the room
I see the angles, the planes,

the endless lines
and sharp edges

of your geometry

and I am glad I am going
even though it hurts as much
being gone as it did being there

it’s just that my lines are round
my planes are spheres

and I have no angles
in the softness of my heart

and the glance of the moon