It could be lace or a beloved surface of skin,   a spider’s nest of eggs, seen from the inside, or mountain ranges from high in the sky, a gaze   through cloud, a fixed place in time   Innocence   filtered, guarded, distanced, it might be captured still   and harnessed Subdued, fixed– tethered   it could be harmless, and thus, held back, along with the years.   We could move in time and water, and nothing would be the same.