Ode to a Ruler

Allyson Mao

Every single math problem, with its twisting maze of numbers, of letters, can always be solved with a ruler— a smooth, small stick, bending the trails of my pencil straight.

A ruler is always well-made: you can bend it, turn it into a catapult; you can hold it like a sword. You can throw it like a dagger.

Everyone has a different ruler—some are different colors: some are wood while others plastic; some with inches and some with centimeters— each with their own unique set of scratch marks, from the user’s mistakes, from the user’s boredom. Matisses are often found on rulers.

A ruler traverses the world with you. It draws theories beyond knowledge. Its precision never fails.

But if it did,

What would happen?

Perhaps the world will go on. Perhaps the world will burn. Snap!

Marc broke my ruler again.