At any given moment

            even language, which

            is not clear,

            and always dissolves—

            even language, which

            the mind created,

            and always dissolves

            the boundary between

            the mind (created)

            and the body (now blurred);

            the boundary between

            what is and what is imagined

            of the body—now blurs.

            The way self persists through

            what is and what is imagined.

            The names of the things we can’t touch.

            The way self persists through

            mirrors, the need for white noise,

            the names of the things we can’t touch—

            like an echo in a stairwell.

            Mirrors, the need for white noise,

            the image of hands steadying this page.

            Like an echo in a stairwell.

            Like the stairwell itself.

            The image of hands steadying this page—

            a grounding, a tying together,

            like the stairwell itself,

            like the letters of your name.

            A grounding, a tying together,

            by force of habit alone,

            like the letters of your name

            and what is possessed there.

            By force of habit alone

            at any given moment;

            what is possessed there

            is not clear.

Copyright © Chuck Carlise, 2005. All Rights Reserved.