Philip Wexler plays with the terminology of calculus in this poem:
The Calculus of Ants on a Worm
Swarming tiny
bodies nibble
away, no limits,
at the squirming
tube, divide,
reduce
by degrees,
make of it
null
nothing orignal
this derivative
devouring,
flitter around
the tail end
of the curve,
march off,
a tight triangle,
bellies full,
infinite,
temporary
satisfaction,
leave behind
the stain
of an integral sign.
I found Wexler's poem in the anthology Cabin Fever: Poets at Joaquin Miller's Cabin, 1984-2001 (WordWorks, 2003). A brief mention of calculus also is found in a lovely poem by Carl Phillips entitled "A Mathematics of Breathing."
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