there’s the water
here’s the drop
drip
drop
SPLASH
drip
drop
SPLASH
hit the window
down the pane
in rivers
small
and searching
pushing on
then:
a pool
see-through
but stretching perspectives
on the other side
going by
thick
and thin
morphing
in the dripping glass
stretching
trembling
they flow apart
drip
drop
SPLASH
small world
big world
there’s the water
here’s the drop
I don’t remember sitting in the very first chair I ever sat in but I’ve seen it later on: red and ornamented, long-legged, barred. Then came the kitchen bench, bottles of juice lined up neatly behind
“No,” she said. “No?” he asked. “No.” “But–” “No ‘but.’” Her voice not breaking. “I won’t do it.” “B–” She shakes her head. She turns her back. Draws the line. Outside, she smiles. Inside, he smiles.