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Lori Anderson Moseman, 2014 

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Who is Zahlen? A woman, a girl, a set of numerals or all numbers, integers. An undefined quantity. Moseman integrates her, places Zahlen into the world: a system of numeric signs out on a date, climbing ladders, planting radishes. Zahlen on horseback, drawing owl faces, calculating Pythagorean triples and okra. The garden is a space of particular pleasure. Moseman asks, what do numbers do, when they’re out on their own?

Dorothy confides in Zahlen

Dot, to some, is just another data point. Nonetheless, 

she confides in Zahlen: “Outside the womb, the brain is

the first home I will not be moved from, 

though I gladly be empty again so I could fill—

a damn spillway or compost heap crawling with worms 

or a wasp nest, an open hatch.”

Zahlen shrugs. There are transcendental numbers, 

but she is not one. As far as Zahlen can tell, 

chairs could arrange themselves, tables could too. 

As could forks filthy in the sink, wet in the dry rag:

all forks ever talk about is uplift—the arc from jab to lip.

Just ask spy spoons about nights in the fork tray.