Zero Balance Poem by Noah Smits

My life fits inside an aluminum can
Not much of a poet and less of a man
My brashness I nurture; my folly I flaunt
I swing and I sway in suspensions of want
Near-equal in worth to some long-deceased aunt
Of lucky location alone can I boast
For long in a vacuum as null did I haunt
Becoming a one was unlikely at most

All meaning is vertical, width has no part
A hyper-fine undefined line on a chart
Bereft of original features, my face
Subtract something from me, I won't leave a trace
That time is perceptible owes to some grace
Some skillfully scheming impossible art
A recondite joke is my gift of a place
A kid left by Father alone in a cart

Tucked under my pillow a zero I keep
Its churning division now rocks me to sleep
Absurdity nestles me safe in my bed
(Though safety is merely denial of dread!)
If right I'm immortal, if wrong I am dead
(My wrongs dwarf my rights in a towering heap!)
To love what makes sense is to topple ahead
To rest upon zero's a vertical leap