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          Brunelleschi's Equation
          By Heidi Atwood

          The sinking centers
          of my grandmother's cakes
          are points of parting. Lines
          divide slice from slice and pull us
          towards an altered landscape.

          This is how we paint the geometry of loss:
          crumbs curving the edge
          of a cake that once was there,
          our mouths waiting to recieve
          stiff ridges of icing

          like mountain spines drawn to crucifix
          on Cezanne's San Victoire,
          and later, Mansfield, our hikes
          to peaks we could not see;
          tundra grass swept between stone.

          Half-way up
          you told me I should not wait
          as you leaned against a tree
          longing for water.

          At the summit I could not see.
          you had slipped past
          the vanishing point into a world
          beyond absence.

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Document last modified on: 09/25/2005

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