- after "Profile in an Arch," Odilon Redon; 1905
Gold-edged, another dream of melancholy
longing. It holds us in its mouth
like creatures in aquarium water:
here we lose track of the hours,
the days. The watery contour of our bodies
is a science whose calculus is constantly
vaporizing. When we remember to breathe,
we glimpse the geometry of old forms.
Wing and beak. Scales clouding the basin.
We wanted to be weightless and now
we are, as well as fixed in place. The world
is a womb full of washing where we spin.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.