in the heart of noon
the sun on a swallow

flying over the marketplace—
quick shimmer carried on

a dark leaf of passing
the way clear blue

and yellow apothecary bottles
on a high shelf at last

confess they carry more
than their presumed

emptiness— even the bird
knows about the luminous

green stone lying
at the bottom of long-

necked despair
how gradually it rises

so the mouth could pluck it
out of its collected waters


In response to Via Negativa: High and low.

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