They say that the capacity to love
is infinite.
Do the math, though.
How can you divide
the finite heart into infinite pieces?

I do the math of love all the time.
The algebra of time zones, 
of distance,
the geometry of making schedules fit
when I’m finally, finally close enough
to touch and to hug.

And all the time, my delicate heart
is divided, over and over,
into tenths, hundredths, thousandths,
fractions of what I once had to give.

I say that no math–
not calculus, not trigonometry,
not statistics or probability 
has an equation or algorithm
that will explain my heart to me.