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| Olivia Bee Untitled |
'We are parallel lines, an exponential bloom
where Zeno predicted your retreat;
and where I come through a, you come through b
—the two of us watching unyielding axioms
fill the space between us. One geometry says
we will meet, but each time I bend, you bend
toward a point beyond my reach. I want you
to be where I am, or I want to be where you are.
But a single truth has fixed us here,
and you are further for it.'
Axioms
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