Fog descended from a higher realm,
Aspens wavering like tinsel on the tide,
A girl’s eye clouded up with film
In whose seas are better ends implied,

Blizzards sloshing in her mirrored cage,
The breeze a ripple from her dripping tap,
Mountains, pines, and snowed-in sage
Mottled by her naked, scudding map;

Landscapes painted on that soapsud skin,
All the galaxy inside her globe,
The very liquid that she washes in
Xeroxed on the water’s stippled robe,

Ocean incubated in a box:
A camera only briefly bound by locks.