I store the Infinite inside me
in the space behind my heart

Like a skein of silk, 
it unspools out and out 
until I am empty and

Time falls away
condensing to Now

when there is only 
the baby I bathe
a fiddle lilting through humid twilight air  
three hawks soaring on thermals high above three graves
Marc’s three Red Horses dancing on a museum wall
lakewater surging on a sailboat’s high side
a press of slick bodies chorusing near a stage
the thrum of snow-packed tires on a cattle guard 
a red meteor shooting west in the northern sky

until Time moves again
and the spool gathers in the moment
in a blink

I savor these blisses 
swirling like galaxies behind my breasts
on mornings on the threshold of waking

I save these blisses
for a morning when I wake with my vision dimmed
so the spool can run out and out and out
emptying me
until Time falls away