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Memoir of a Mathematician

Eric Braude

From under the table the boy sees

his aunt’s high heels.

She’s talking to teacher. 

Whole number One

Can't do that much with it.

He’d heard from the front 

"Dreaming again. 

Come over here!"

Number Two 

∙ ∙

Lies there, all flat.

Now he must crouch

without pencil or paper.

All you can do with a Two 

is cut it in half. 

Then there's 

 ∴

Three. Turns like a wheel

back to itself. A lot different

from Two. Auntie H., former teacher,

has been sent to request

that he skip the first grade. Four 

: :

Two Two's side-by-side or

one on another.

Hauling his satchel up stairs

to where second grade meets, 

: : .

he twice hops

two steps at a time,

then only one. 


Eric Braude grew up in South Africa and is currently a professor of computer science. He won the 27th annual Eagle-Tribune/Robert Frost Foundation Spring Poetry Contest and wrote the front matter poem for the Grey Court Poets’ anthology Songs from the Castle’s Remains, which was published in 2013. Braude’s poetry has previously appeared in Poetica, South Florida Poetry Journal, Apple Valley Review, Constellations, I-70 Review, and J Journal.

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