point

staring at one point,
over an hour or who knows?
feet naked against kitchen floor
fixated
fixed –on
window, –the front
can’t turn around while
blending stinted-peace
with lumps of involuntariness

grows

the point is deeply white
blinding
enrapturing
agonizing lure

on, –not off

around it
little light-purple flowers
some barely-green leaves
in a blurring twirl
skip, tap, smile, hop

while they wait
while they hope

central and white
still
the point motionless
moves

if i could just move
if i could just turn away
i wouldn’t stop
again
as i did before

in an wintry –summery– point