Amy As It Approaches Zero

By Clay Waters

Unlashed at last from the long lanes
you stand apart
in the hall of the Pale Girl School

an unembarrassed toe
round and shaped as a pearl
flashes enough pink soul
across obsidian marble
to make a row of visored fish-eyes spurt red.

Something is shuddering to a start,
splintering with an unveiling:
a realization that even indignities
can be factored into a sum
still open to argument

You smile ruler thin, relating
with a spit of beaten velvet
lessons not taken.