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.