There was a village north of Asia’s east
Which was tormented by a most fearsome beast.
Its claws were longer than long division.
Worse still, its eyes were differentiable functions.
“Children, children, don’t go out at night –
Beware of the numbers that shriek and bite,”
The grown-ups whispered in hushed tones.
The fear had settled deep in their bones.
But one day arrived a visitor with a multihued mane:
She promised, “I will rid the village of this bane.”
Though stout of heart and keen of mind,
Nothing could’ve prepared her for the sight she would find:
Crumpled in a corner was the beast of lore,
Whispering, “I just wish I were understood more.”
Malavika Selvaraj is a writer and poet whose fingers have been bitten repeatedly by integral calculus.
Featured image credit: Unsplash