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Mathematics | The Poetry Foundation

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Share I have envied those who make something useful, sturdy— a chair, a pair of boots. Even a soup, rich with potatoes and cream. Or those who fix, perhaps, a leaking window: strip out the old cracked putty, lay down cleanly the line of the new. You could learn, the mirror tells me, late at night, but lacks conviction. One reflected eyebrow quivers a little. I look at this borrowed apartment— everywhere I question it, the wallpaper’s pattern matches. Yesterday a woman showed me a building shaped like the overturned hull of a ship, its roof trusses, under the plaster, lashed with soaked rawhide

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