As clear and precise
as a calligrapher’s
first downstroke,
she leant into
a white stucco wall.
We were new to all this,
spectators of an elsewhere
we couldn’t tell
how to name.
The big drop at the head
of an aqueduct looked
like a history –
terrain of assailants –
or so we’d been taught
to assume.
Perched there,
it was as if I could step
out into space
and gather up
every detail
as I fell.
