Jan/Feb 2018 • Poetry |

Textile Photo Art by Jeffrey Trespel

**Triangles**

You and I

speak

of Euclid,

of geometry

and quickly

find our way

to triangles.

You say

"the sum of

interior angles

must equal

180 degrees."

"And yet,"

I remind you

needlessly,

"triangles

manifest

in infinite ways."

"Equilateral,"

you say—

"with oddly

equitable sides."

"Surely rare,"

I add.

"Right triangles,"

I proclaim,

and usher

Pythagoras in—

the old Greek

quaking in his

timelessness.

We three

recite

the rigid

law of squares

and marvel

at the birth

of trigonometry.Yet you seem

more interested

in oddish angles—

and delight

in scalene,

acute,

and best of all

obtuse.

"Moreover,"

you point out,

while donning

galoshes,

"even those

with two arms

that grow

boundlessly

cannot exist

without a third,

though it may shrink

to nearly nothing.""And, if

it vanishes,

what might

you call

the two remaining

sides?"

I ask,

of the resulting

emptiness.