Who Says the Eye Loves Symmetry

Doesn’t the eye love the ragged
tear of sky the treetop-shred
horizon The eye— after all—
loves the dizzy
dip of a road: its precarious
tilt towards a ravine
only wrist-deep water
and giant smooth rocks to break
the sky’s fall The eye
loves the bit peach window agape
buildings caught mid-swagger across a skyline
The eye loves unpainted pickets
cracked planks the harlequin the prow
poked out of water
like a chin loves
the evergreen arched over a flood
like an old man looking into the street
for a hand loves a sawed link chewed
rope a birch’s slants But
the eye can’t
love what it can’t
see: the woman
striding tired and brave amid the lobby’s bustle
and under her shirt
a single breast
For Maureen Clyne

Patrick Rosal
Who Says the Eye Loves Symmetry is reprinted from Uprock Headspin Scramble and Dive (Persea Books, 2003) and originally appeared in Uncommon Denominators (Palanquin Press, 2000).
Poem, copyright © 2000 by Patrick Rosal
Appearing on From the Fishouse with permission
Audio file, copyright © 2005, From the Fishouse