7.

by Donald Brandis   

a coil of ribbon muddy green uncoiling
haphazard as a neglected lawn
will in a few moments be un-looped lying limp
against themselves, each loop a different size
and shape from having been nearly identical
if the coils had been cut apart like a cored apple
twice by a long knife making both cuts at once
opposite each other, it would take careful measurement
to reconstruct the coils
or it would take unnatural perception

so is the day unwinding on the homeward commute
she lets it go to the ruin it will be
tomorrow unmanaged, a mess she will finesse
but for this evening the openings between loops
widen until the loops vanish
with a delicious, unexpected release
the ribbons are bits of company history
trends large and small, smaller, very small
wrapped in each other like a ball of rubber bands

she turns her cell off, a small rebellion
and goes into the spaces where loops have been
where there is no telling
at home she pours a glass of wine
and looks at a familiar framed photo
a reflecting pool at Versailles
a lazy afternoon of bicyclists
and shells with rowers moving like long-legged insects
well away down the surface of the pool
their number indistinct

in late afternoon the light has begun its decline
the scene is mostly sky indifferent to light
and to darkness the trees around the pond
have begun to pull on like a winter coat
the big mirroring pond is also indifferent
to all but sky she is entering
first as a thought-bird whose vision is just larger
than galaxies, just larger than dust particles
then as the sky itself, everywhere clarity and delight