quantum mechanics
Ellie Schoenfeld
assures that the turning
of me head is intimately connected to
the lighting of your cigarette. Nothing happens
alone or isolated and the wildness in the wave
of my hair is the same
as the lake when the vault around my perception cracks
enough to make the connection.
The knowledge of each thing contained
in everything else so when I look
at this daffodil it might well be
a face in China same as the twisted branch
reaching like an old woman to the moon.
A wild old woman dancing crazy circles
on the beach, waves of her hair
pounding on her back.
