Five ways to slice a double cone

  I.  Hands touch -
            a point is where and when it all begins. 
      Sperm nudges 
            ovum, blades of sycamore spiral
      on to loam,
            a universe expands into 
      existence. Here,
            in our garden, rain begins to fall.

 II.  A drop 
            shivers the mirrored surface of the pond, 
      sends ripples, rings. 
            The lines of symmetry are infinite 
      within the iris 
            of each eye. Your pupils dilate,
      reflect the moon
            haloed with crystals, an inverse eye.

III.  We’ve learnt 
            our dance: binary stars around our bary-
            sometimes near each other, sometimes far.
      Dancing, the moon 
            thins and plumps. Milk has been splashed
      across the sky - 
            our sun, a pursuant cat, licks the drops.

 IV.  From earth 
            we are bound to earth, a symmetry
      of rise and fall, 
            we dive from rocks into the sea’s 
      embrace. A fox 
            leaps, pounces on a cowered 
      hare; a bowl
            sings to its focus, a mirror burns.

  V.  I mould 
            my body to your shape, the sleeping, convex 
      curve of you,
            while cosmic debris lured by the sun 
            on its path from nowhere to nowhere, and space-
      time, warped
            by some unseen presence, dips and swoops.

‘Five ways to slice a double cone’ first appeared in Allegro Poetry, Issue 19 in December 2018.

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