Circles, everywhere

Circles, everywhere

by Sam Sobel

I love the round shapesthat bugs make in chewed leaves,the symmetry of their feast.
It’s like mealworms knowabout the nurture found in loss,the way librarians punch holes
in index cards for water ice,or the way kids spin like drunkssearching for dizzy vision.
I look for these small circlesand see them in everything:in airbrushed haloes
on t-shirts for dead loved ones,in books about hungry caterpillars,in the dimes I seem to find
everytime I write about you;the coin a bug punched outand deemed ours.