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coils beneath your heels on the polished floor.
When you lower your gaze, you are caught, compelled
to follow the curving black and countercurving
white until you are dizzied, funneled inward
so deep you see the crafted design not
as it is — in the crowded, indifferent
sunblasted hall — but tinted by an evening memory,
a coastline of ozone and kelp, with gusts
rattling dried seed pods, whipping up chop.
Dark water slapped at white-bouldered point
and there for a splendid interval you beheld,
not too far out, distinctive within the gloom,
the lift and dip of the orcas dancing in the moon.
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