Her math homework,
no longer funny
and instead perverse,
speaking to her with
the spheres of song
and galactic reverb,
like-follows suit,
stutters numbers
and signs of equality
through her, on her,
to my sweet grey
blossoming


on her lap, where: So
with then I listen and
make no motion
of the skin, everyone’s sighs;
likewise recording her
answers for a later date
she will never remember,
and by all accounts,
have moved past
long ago.