A quizzical figure
Slanted between frozen angles of suggestion
Leans against mirrors that reverse themselves
To caverns at once sacred and savage.
This feminine outline, perfect and shaded,
Avoids her reflection in the churning waters below,
Revealing only misdirection in these dark passages…
A soft figure that fills itself to the given space
And releases its parts to the air upon suggestion
Retreats from outlines imperfect in melting glass.
These maze-ridden paradoxes seem to converge
At various surface parts
Or rather the mirrors suggest such a cavernous union
That closed eyes cannot deny…
To see the other as if for the first time
Is the journey of seeing myself at the last expanse,
The final seascape of bleeding crustacea
Beckoning my feet already partially cleansed
By waters running through me to your break.