Angles

by Charlotte Webb
© 2003, all rights reserved.
Cardioid curvature, big heart-shaped graph:
Showy, pretentious, greater by half.
Degenerate into a hypocycloid,
Rolling with flourish, hiding the void.

The union seemed good, the angles were right,
Square to the compass within line of sight.
On a spiritual plane, 'twas a match made in hell;
Lines deviating, and ruin foretell.

Sine, cosine, tangent, sixty degrees,
No longer right for the world to see.
Linear motion, acute angle's aim,
Arrows fly swiftly; but who is to blame?

The angle of incidence that fateful night,
Straight line of fire, with tangent but slight.
Bullets so aimed stayed true to the course,
Approaching infinity without remorse.

Angles © 2003, by Charlotte Webb. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
Except as permitted under the Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this web page may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

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