Poems

Angle of Repose III

By Peter Halstead

To Cath

As hills their limits know,
Beyond which avalanching snow

Or scree becomes the norm
(Even pebbles crave decorum,

Expecting from their land
A firm idea of where they stand),

Or as a theodolite employs its
Bubbles when it poises

(The purpose of all talents is
To find the secret balances),

As a seesaw waxes
Better at its axis,

Or a top, deprived of meaning,
Ends up simply leaning,

As anything unsettled or disheveled
Prefers a planet better leveled,

So, wobbling, I, less you,
Am a world more askew.

March 7th, 2001