Balance

Two homes, two mothers, two wives:
the world runs double,
resulting in a lack of focus
and a sliding bubble.
The result is a nervous surveillance,
a kind of quest
in which sought after is balance.

Three points make the shape of a crotch,
three legs a stool,
two points
constitute a straight line.
A projector runs,
so that images are constantly changing
though each cell is one.

A film stretched out makes a line.
All individual cells
add up to one.
Nor is action always balanced.
Too many fulcrums.
Life isn’t a child’s teeter-totter:
each of us is a tightrope walker.