The Circle

no beginning and no end

It is like a circle, the skin and the walls

the water and the sky.

The way the start and the finish connect

so seamlessly that no one can see them.

The earth and everything in it rotates

in a constant circle around a burning

ball of fire.

White water floats bubbles moving

downstream, a constancy

that is quiet.

You turn your night on too quickly

in this navy blue, star-flecked dream.

In a sound wave, it seems like

a memory, but is not,

in the place where you are standing

with your limbs hanging heavily

like they aren’t yours

and you don’t know how to carry them.

The air moves like invisible feathers

drifting small parachutes to the ground.

The year in a circle, line round and turning

slowly, that contains this room,

and the outer limits,

as seasons pass without a sound.