In a break from the contra danse,
when the light is new,
at its beginning, just strewn
in times of ephemeral appearance.
And the poet steps aside
to examine the heart
amid blind stops and starts,
focused with pinpoint precision.
Look away from the morning’s
in the opposite sky, anticrepuscular rays,
remind one of beauty’s emergence.
And the face is of love,
the blocked sounds reappear,
in an eye-blink, a mere
reminder of the dance’s convention.