Wednesday, January 24, 2018

"Fractal Perfection" by Aparna Sanyal, Frequent Contributor & Poet of the Week

Fractal Perfection
Aparna Sanyal

A fractal face in a
fractal state;
the tremble of my lip matches 
moist eyelids. 
Bitten, the inside of my cheek
speaks
to oozing wounds that flow from my nose; 
raw sniffs that hold back 
salt.
Salt--that is the concrete of my shell,
that blessed tell,
of a whole, that is finally wrung out. 
Fractal geometry 
betrays my body with its symmetry--
I know not these unplanned surfeits--
how to stop one part, one curve, one angle from 
mirroring the other in cat-curling 
Fibonacci conceits. 
A riptide of orderly emotion, can it be? 
It creates another me-- 
prismatic, 
facet-twinned, the opposite of erratic. 
Each pore harks to the next, it’s mate, 
in grief’s fractally perfect state. 

Poet’s Notes:  There is a certain progression in pain. Having lived with Recurrent Depressive Disorder all my adult life, I have now learned to tell and even quantify the onset of symptoms. They happen in a systematic, geometric, almost Fibonacci sequence of perfection. The mental anguish is mirrored in double by the physical anxiety, and both add up with mathematical precision to a breaking down of the body’s reserves. Truly, there is a beautiful symmetry in even the most excruciating pain. 

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