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And what part I?

By Frances Minturn Howard / October 6, 1981

I step out into rectangles of space; The morning light is slanted Off blinding planes of stone, The sky becomes A blue geometry. My world is cut in squares Parallelograms, angles A thousand thousand times My midget size. Dwarfed by surrounding hardness Small, round and defenceless To arguments of stone I walk out to see What part of a fraction Represents me.

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