I have a friend who's obsessed with math in all its form. While this poem isn't about him (he's happily married and has a son) he certainly inspired it. Don't believe I'll share it with him, though....
Lust by the Numbers
Pure calculation incites him
to rise like a hungry god
and forfeit caution and measure
to cipher her directly.
Mathematically, it makes sense
like nothing else has: a perfect proof
formed by the angle of her cheeks,
the jut of hip and tapering of leg.
Positive in his brain and heart,
he tosses off theroms by way
of flirting, but the geometry of her face
remains puzzled, her desire
already in another man's queue,
the one across the bar who shunned
math the first chance he got,
assured he would never need it.
Trembling, cogitating on this:
where are the women promised
in the numbers of my dreams
that dance in nightly rhythm?
She accepts the drink,
quaffs it faster than he can add sums.
She settles like a sigh against her chosen,
unaware of the man working to erase himself.
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