Flushed

In the bathroom I found the flaw
in the thoughts that had been brewing
sequestered in my head
like bugs in my ears

Sitting with tingly feet
as I thumbed the catalog
took snippets of sonnets
perusing the pages

While all the while I pondered
what was stuck in my head
like some contrived confection
in the mouth of a child: wasted

There was something
something stiff that wouldn’t loosen
resisting my method
and hedging the thesis

Long I sat and drifted
though the channels
of tangential sub-thought
only to end up back on the pot

Staring at hard water stains
and the dried foam
of a shower two days old
only inches away

Memories of mornings
lather, rinse, repeat
and dim breaks from bright days
as I came here for relief

Warm and bright in winter
Equally the opposite
when the weather is warm
it always knows the score

And just when I think
it’s time to give up
POP
I see a passage through

But the lassitude of my reckoning
the languid method
has left me idle
and a bit unaware

So I stop
a motionless moment
as if moving might dislodge the thought
and trap the intellectual ort

The girth of realization
seems to turn its shoulders sideways
as it carefully squeezes past
out, and into the open

Ah HA!
of course!
how daft I was not to see it
so simple

The golden ratio
is the result of the imperfection
of the Euclidian attempt at symmetry
in a fractal rotation

It will never achieve
in its quixotic attempt
anything
but the beauty of flaw

So I fold down the corner
ten pages from where I started
and pile the books back up
ready for next time