Pick any location, and you’re a warp
in the web, woven several ways.
Imagine fabrics intersectings, threads
and strings and shimmer. This time
you’re a bead on a many-colored
necklace, or a knot in a tapestry
hanging in mid-air. Imagine the rain
as a mist throught which you swim.
You can rise into it, your limbs meshing
With the soft resistance of water
in air. You’re a droplet, many droplets.
You expand until you’re everything.
It feels wonderful. You’re buoyant
And the shore could be a planet.
Who’s to say where you’re from?
Does it matter now, as you tumble
free of gravity, lost in light?

About the poet: As well as being a poet, Kaija Berleman is a collage artist and native Seattleite. Her poems have appeared in Tin Wreath, and Fine Madness magazines, and also in March Hares: The Best Poems from Fine Madness, 1982-2002. She holds a BA with Distinction in English from the University of Washington.