The need for geometries runs
through your veins: lines, arcs, circles –
shapes you want to embody.
Each day you practice:
unfold limbs until they stretch like vectors;
carve through fields, forming arcs,
swooping from bend to bend;
circle, pulling space towards you
like a black hole.
The paths carve neurons through your brain,
and you see the shapes in every space,
in every body:
every circle a perfect pirouette,
every arc a torso bending;
every limb a line
the vanishing point
Francine Rubin’s chapbook, Geometries, was published last year by Finishing Line Press. Her work has recently appeared in Border Crossing, Coin Opera 2 (Sidekick Books), and Spiral Orb, and her poem “Sacagawea” was the third place winner in Calyx Press’ 2013 Flash Fiction contest. A former dancer and ballet teacher, she now works as the Associate Director of the Learning Center at SUNY Purchase College, where she also teaches writing. More poems and thoughts appear at http://francinerubin.tumblr.com.