Some Suspended Particles Don’t Settle Over Time

- 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.

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