her heart was a parabola

her love spun out
in tangents
that spread like ley lines
across her history

each line was a dream
each line was a memory
golden kintsugi
that traced her past
into her future

her heart was a parabola

and although she could not find
its vertex
and although she did not know
its slope
she knew her turn had come

but she didn’t know
which way
she’d turned

Clio 3/13/23

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