Domain & Range

by Eric Chaet

My domain is a lonely, daunted point
but my range is a line whose other end is undefined.

My domain is a line I plod on back & forth
but my range is a surface
tilting left, right, up, down, diagonally
now chaotic waves & storms, now rhythmic & harmonious.

My domain is the surface my neighbors & rivals,
predators, parasites, & those who care for me
briefly or for years or more
see, & believe that’s me—
but beneath the surface I’m surging:
molten, rare, dense, magnetic, more or less—
even I don’t know how deep I go.

People treat one another as tho they’re their domains—
but I see thru their shells—&, til I die, I’m ranging.

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