You are no soft breeze.
There is no rippling
     no break
     on this smooth surface.

But there is movement,
     as a river, damned,
     is mad with movement
     all unseen.

You spin
     like a thousand spiders
     eight thousand sparkling circuits
     across my body
     spun out of yours.

Whole cities could be lit
     by what lies
     open
     and invisible
     between us.

© Carlene Sobrino Bonnivier

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