Circles and Salt Water

“I count the number of letters on signs

Or on flyers or in titles of books

And if there’s an odd number…” I stumbled;

My fingers traced circles round each other.

“I have to find a word close by that makes

Them all add up to even.” Embarrassed:

Not for me, but for the revelation

Now floating, amorphous, crab without shell.

Then you told me about the instrument

You invented as a child: ten fingers,

Endless wheels of notes. Visions of circles

Of fifths teared behind my eyes, tread water.

Your jokes and tears and finger instruments:

I am of them all, the cells of my soul.