Landscape (vii)
A little light in the clear pools of her eyes
is all it takes, and anger invades them--
the way sun shows the edges of sunken rocks.
The morning, returning to find her living,
isn't gentle or kind: it sits still amid
stone houses, surrounded by sky, and watches.
Her small body emerges into sun and shadow
like a slow animal taking a look around,
not seeing anything except maybe colors.
Vague shadows drape the street, her body,
the slits of her eyes, barely open, like pools
with shadows that show through their surfaces.
The colors mirror the tranquil sky.
And the steps that tread slowly over cobbles
seem to tread on all things, oblivious to them
like her smile, passing over them like water.
Beneath the surface move threatening shapes.
Every thing here ripples at the thought
that except for her, this street is empty.
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