Dawn

Sarah Day

Dawn finds its way into the house

through every recess,

projecting on to walls oblique

slow-motion shadow cinema:

toy canoe and sailing boat

navigate the bathroom wall;

a trompe l’oeil window onto moving trees

configures near a kitchen cabinet;

water, in an unwashed bowl,

attuned to some vibration

ripples across the ceiling;

a teaspoon on a sill glances ...

through cracks and keyholes, light

lets itself into the house,

not as a sly intruder

but with radiant in-pouring,

a casual, brilliant right of entry