JOSEPH STEFANI

Animating the Vectors

To lean down over the prow and watch
           what is parsed to starboard and port.
To soar up into the air to a point of stall and
           turn and descend.
To be the becoming of a loop in a length of string,
           over and under making for return.
To climb hand over hand into wakefulness.
To lie on the bed in the last dark.
To hear through the open window rain
           splatter on leaves and slap the patio concrete.
To listen to the silence of the house and the breathing
           of the beloved and the two cats (also beloved) and
           the silence of all our things carrying on
           being whatever they are, all on their own.

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