‘From Conjecture to Confirmation,’ he titled his section, Proudly, swimmingly, in a state of flow. Out there the grass grew unchallenged, out there he could not Use his familiar scalpels to dissect sociality. When inequalities fail, cast the problem into topology, he was taught, Taught taught taught. And now he squats low Over a desk of cocobolo, rasping amours To Ricci flows. Bring her back, master. Bring Her back, Cantor, and I will cut the knot You never could. When the moon rose that hillside with us, And you turned back to examine whence we came In the mercurial torchlight, my little daemon tickled And I forgot how to prove the theorem of Pappas for the first time.