.
an ill-defined room in space beyond reach of imagination
a blur in which there were no words
an atmosphere of things enmeshed beyond articulation
in a highchair at a table . . . through an outside door
dad comes in. I know him by his loud wool coat
and how he said a solid thing, he said
I don’t know what but out of sight all round
enveloping as grace I felt my mother float
I knew her slightest sound
her voice, it moved the air,
I knew that note
Jim Culleny
4/26/18
Blink 