PISCINE

Water has so long drunk up reflections
it is dissolved in them, is painted sponges,
thief of itself and them; the limb that plunges
has been drunk by endless fluid actions.

Two mirrors, corridor of intersections,
toss images like balls to the world's end;
touching or breaking planes are closed, are bound
to single selves or to mosaic fractions.

Floating upon parrot-coloured water,
over the stained tiles, catlike I watch
the luscious diver sign her arabic letter
through air and pool; this is their meeting which
(the types restored, the locus tied) must scatter
the infinite imagined depth of each.
					HELIOPOLIS.