~ after “Mimetismo” (Mimesis), 1960; Remedios Varo
Sometimes the furniture absconds
with my nightclothes, lets in
a fleet of curious clouds.
I have taught strings the secrets
of incremental levitation. Blending in
with the chair’s tapestry cover, I become
one tree in an orchard still glowing from
its last encounter with fire. When I am still,
don’t think my heart has vacated its post.
I’ve simply moved it into a less
conspicuous place. It glows from time
to time, reassuring me that it’s still there.
In response to Via Negativa: Backward river.