One should scrape the wall
over which dampness has drawn
a map of the new world
and new separations should be applied.
Beneath them, the stones should be
rearranged haphazardly, like
the footprints of a man running from his fears.
One should be
a round mirror in a half-open palm
and reflect others’ embraces
as sharp as scissor blades which touch each other
only when there’s something to be cut.
New lands should be invented,
so one can walk on water once again.