All afternoon, plunging deeper and deeper.
I deplete myself noiselessly. The closet mirror
debuts again its silent film of capsized ships.
She sees me. I see her. We wave our first world premiere.
Don’t look for father here whose kamikaze smile,
for all you know, is more Samaritan than
an Adirondack above the sea. How wonder struck
I seem draping my ballerina completing
her soprano bellow, what one must feel
when light rises from everywhere.