Small, or uncertainly so. Mouth of this. Tributary of that. Tribute can be a small copper coin in a small copper bowl; gold, if you're lucky, or blessed, or considerate of either. The sound against metal registers as infinitesimal among the infinitesimal changes in a closed system. The act of giving: continuous, but irrelevant. 

Of course it means the striped back of a moth against the morning newspaper; the single wing that struggles to begin. Of course there's tiny holes in the Tatsoi. Everything eats. Everything deflects under a heavy load, like a cantilever beam given a new radian angle. Here is my fixed end. Here is my free. A show of force multiplied by some length cubed. 

It's a poem of force, or force that indents this cross beam into the inflammation of a mosquito bite. It hurts? Say three Hail Marys, and use force if it bothers you again. Remember: though you are the defendant, and He is the prosecutor, the burden of proof is yours.    


Places I've Been

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