On the row and column ledger
All the positive and negative
sums of months
The Broccoli and motor oil
that combine to make
me.

I stand on the side walk
after a night of pacing
sending the furniture crashing
down to the floor next to my feet
Breathing heavily with fingers
fast running through furrows in my
Hair, my forehead.
Now, after that night
With a cup of orange juice
and snow falling
all the wrenched fillaments in
my heart smooth
but not so much that
I can’t still feel the braille.
Looking at my hand
Running my index finger over
the palm, carrying the nine
I can’t figure it
The math still eludes me.