Pythagoras Sad with the Poetry of Triangles

wondering atoms reach for the edge. of an ever expanding universe. the nucleus drifts from center. and everything is chaos and ecstasy. the weakness summons her. a raw king naked at its throne. an empty power. and a despairing fury. slip under her skin. to grow their famine.

The words wince. Against the thickening cold. The woman deliberates. Where the weather ends and she begins. How much distance is too far to go.

The winter approaches softly. Arrives in a scream. She flourishes in the dying. Gravity croons its tender ballads. As the ground clenches hard. The bottom seduces in missing skin and scabby bandages. The elementary physics. The random cuts and bruises. Of willing victims. And reluctant villains.

An empty carousel at the center of the world. spinning slowly. a long courtship with frail demons and  asthmatic gods. at last reaching its suffocating end.

Straw houses betray, And even the brick kind. Eventually fall.

It's the poetry of the circumstance.