The crowd swiveled toward her as she took her seat
Like wedding guests turn to face a bride
I’ve been told that flowers obey the same rule
And stretch their necks toward light
But in botany or astronomy or ceremony
There is distance between the puller and pulled
An invisible rope straining through air like heat
from unseen hand to unseen hand
She reminds me of a flower . . .
ReplyDelete"The instinct of a swivel" turns my head.
ReplyDeleteYour words surpass that photo the way ripples surpass the initial impact of a pebble into a pond, going on, and on, and outward. Beautiful.
ReplyDelete