VERTIGO

it doesn't help at all to fight it,
up and down are hopelessly
entwined. the mirrored room,

everything, the floors and ceilings
walls and doors, his ice clear blue
eyes, the tiny creases in his skin

when light falls on it, the fine gray
hair that grows from every pore,
the river, the line of trees on the

horizon, my memories. all mirrors, all
in motion. a step in any direction
means something gets closer,

something else recedes. to run
would only be an act of passion.
to hold oneself within the gyroscope,

to simultaneously commit
to action and surrender to the
outcome, this: this is something

more substantial, this is what
is beyond the next rise
in the road, this is what we've

learned, this is abdicating hope
in favor of deliverance, this is
sunlight on green water, a tiny

bug in flight, a wind that comes up
hard and dies away as quickly, this
is music with no other choice than dance.

© Joan Barton, 1999

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