Seeing

Seeing brims over our things
Fills our teacups, anchorages,
Closets ,balconies for a night,
Sunlight’s spaces in tall trees
Corners where a mom meets
A shadow,a lizard on the wall.

Seeing is yours in my words.
Seeing is a water not spilling
From a child’s hands clasping
The glass with both his hands
Feet in slow measured motion

Or his squatting on the floor
Drawing feet together to cry
Opening and closing his feet
Like tentacles,in beach sand
On their way back to the sea.

Seeing is yours for my words.
Old woman is emitting a light
A camera’s laughing at death.
Seeing is her skin’s wrinkled
Cloud drained of future rain.
Seeing is a word on keyboard.

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