The Miracle When Water Floats

This woman who stands immersed in an air
of flowers / though it is November
on the eyebrows of such dismal clouds /
this woman whose hand is on a handrail
which has the scent of basil crowding in
from a former memory / this woman
has already noticed the snow lurking
in the doorways and the alleys / heard the faintest
cries of genesis in a ground yet unfrozen
and this woman wearing yellow in the grey / this woman
carrying a nothing which is too heavy / this woman
smiling at the crystalizing air / she has no secrets
and she feels herself absorbed by everything
around her / this woman who has bent
herself into the years until she’s gained invisibility.



— a sixties flashback —