“One and One”
One and one is two sufficed to say until the day
Is trumped by yet another fledgling group of alloys,
An isotope that arrives riding happenstance within a circle that deploys
Its toys more suited to radicals in threes or addressed to the nines; they play
Their respects, their token laughter swells, and hapless natural osmosis foils
Stasis to bring within a harvest of limitations without its genesis. From here,
Again, an intercourse, and lo! the ad hoc crown of twelve’s sun’s spears
Just so, what is now joins a greater tree of commerce, a wider web of spoils.
A fuller ten and nine intones its inventories, the benchmark’s tally.
As armies advance in order, numbers rhyme in time to mark the Ides
Of every next month’s intercourse, and all foreseen with ease. The endgames,
watermarks to denote every restive tribe, innuendoes of capacities in groups
are resigned to the finite, well below what purposes and aims
are erstwhile claimed as classic. Balanced satisfactions sally
Forth to witness that nagging “something,” an eternal gyroscope spinning
through successive turns of birth and thence to need and beyond. Gleaning
Ends from all beginnings does not matter. The infection of malignant harvests
lurks in the unsuspecting cells of even the smallest and inauspicious seeding.