The Infinity Pool
Someone snips barbed wire and gathers
yerba mansa in the field; the Great Red Spot
on Jupiter whirls counterclockwise;
sea turtles beach on white sand. In the sky,
a rose hue floats over a blue that limns
a deeper blue at the horizon. Unwrapping
chewing gum, a child asks, “Where
is the end to matter?” Over time, a puffer
fish evolved resistance to tetrodotoxin
and synthesized it. I try on T-shirts
from a shelf, but not, twenty months later,
your father’s pajamas in the drawer.
Now the stiletto palm-leaves are delineated,
a yellow-billed cardinal sips at a ledge.
By long count, a day’s a drop in an infinity
pool. The rose tips of clouds whiten;
someone sprinkles crushed mica into clay
and sand before plastering an interior wall.