A Bust of Eleanor Leo

Eric,

A Bust of Eleanor Leo
Eleanor Leo lives in Euclid, Ohio. In high school her favorite subject was geometry.
Now 68, she sees the wit of a chaotic universe in that detail.
Her cats, Pythagorus and Leibniz, watch her examine her old workbooks--rhombuses and rays, theorems and equations.
They sit on her couch, assembled, she figures, in some sort of geometric pattern she cannot remember.

Whether it was the numbers or aesthetics that had recently brought her to be obsessed with her old workbooks she didn't know.
A labyrinth of right angels and -gon endings, of degrees and therefores, of rays and parallels--this was her home,
not the carefully constructed abode she inhabited, built to include all triangles
because they are strongest of all forms. This she remembered,
that three lines were more powerful than six, eleven, twenty-three. That fact, along with the Fibonacci sequence,
that beautiful and natural
string of 1,1,2,3,5...

Life was managed by a schizophrenic and bipolar figure. The years had taught
her this. But she was trying to forget it, to re-teach
herself the spurious mathematics of order.

68 and with the afterimage that memory garners of her husband.
A student of the universe's wit, of 1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,34
- seashells, pineapple, cauliflower, rabbits:
Eleanor Leo.