White Poem by Sharon Kelly

There's a white room
A pallor so densely pale 
It burns the flesh more than the eyes
All the pure hearts
That live there
Hold their divine congregations seriatim
One more heart, they say, your heart
Thank you scheming seraphim
But I don't belong here
Your existence is in light and permanence
Whilst mine is in a swollen diaphanous orb

A floating, shapeshifting bubble 
Where I hide in the life of someone else
A copy of who I am supposed to be
Drawn and redrawn
My origin is hardly an utterance
Not barely a word or even a breath

A substance consistently ruptured
As its poured from one cup to another
A little bit less, a little more lost
But how fortunate I am 
To forfeit to you
In Escher like patterns of dark and light and 
Pure untainted hues
The deep dominion of myself
In passages of exchange
Where days are nights
And nights are days
Where what is remaining 
Becomes richer and more precious for what has been lost
Evolution by subtraction

The waves bend and the diamond catches fire