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




filtered, guarded,


it might be captured still


and harnessed

Subdued, fixed–



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.