Archimedes’ Father Discovers
His Son’s Sketches
aaron brame
The ways he confounds me. Pages of
moons, wheels enmeshed, levers with
strength to transport objects heavier
than me, even. Can’t slay his first stag,
but turns our stream so spring hares
arrive in the dozens. Look how he
sleeps now, tangled in sheets, spheres
spinning on threads all around us.
