I lay the glass down
And rest my eyes upon its ring
Of condensation
Buoyed to the surface
Of a mahogany sea;
Harbor of my mind.
As I focus
On the geometry
left there
I raise the vessel
And methodically finger
Each droplet of circularity.
As they get smaller
Under each probe
I watch them gather
With the speed of molecules
From the adhesion
Of nature’s way,
Until I become aware
Of an isolated dot;
Perspiration, at the end of a line
That wrinkles
My already aged
Brow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem