Triangle

It was not this , nor even that
Says the triangle of envelope

Surrounding pencil’s memory.
Triangle tapers life to a death

As it is not this nor even that.
We arrive at “this” by triangle.

But there are gorgeous things
Outside triangle petering off.

Body is our triangle,not ‘this”.
But a poet’s closing triangle.

(remembering Emily Dickinson’s envelope poem “It was not Death ,for I stood up..” that seems to adopt a Hindu way of arriving at truth by “Not this,Not this”-a process of elimination)

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