Our only similarity is
the center of gravity

Feet tied with 
fishing line

Where the wavelength bends
             and splits
                                                       as trails on maps

Cavities where
the attraction fails
              to cling or carry sunlight

A cubby hole for
lost objects too small
                           to remember 
                                                                               the loss

Where we are seems
smooth like marble 
                                      but see 
                                                                     the pocks

There’s a gauze
that few 
                                      can peel

I once tried with
a hand shoved inside
                                                  seeking stillness

But I delighted in discovery
                                                  of countless crawling antlings
                                                  bored with my ingress

Much is spared where 

                                                                                                                            we cannot go