Taking the corner

I take the corner, actually, I

Kitcat it, short-cutting across,

I remember my mother’s instruction

Mathematics and life combining in it,

“The shortest distance,” and the hypotenuse

Of the triangle, but said in a language now

Completely foreign to me. Only the sounds

Remain. Strange and clicking sounds I once

Understood in a language I knew well and

Since forgot, but “Obe katete” is so similar

To my choice to kitcat the corner to save

Steps and memories.

Later, when I don’t go short on that same

Street corner, I feel I’ve taken a wrong turn,

Like I am missing her as I round it,

My legs tracing the legs of the triangle,

Taking the longer way and not slicing

The diagonal, making the angles work

In my favor, even the ones I did not pass,

Touching all the bases, not saving steps

Not taking the shorter cut


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