The light that sparkles in the quarry's hole,

Pressing diamonds out of water's coal,


Dresses up the ceiling now the way a blond

Lights her face with jewelry's pond,


Playing all the shadows of a brooch's lyre

To crystallize the room in borrowed fire,


As if every facet of her branded ears

Were mounted in the water's chandeliers,


Stars that scoop out landscapes in a lake

And dimple daylight with the shake


Of leaves, crooked earrings which reflect

The slightest nook and cranny of her neck,


Concentric winds which circle on her face

All the wrinkled character of lace,


Flaws of nature like this shining crack

Which catches sun and throws it back,


Minor defects where the day stumbles in to a ricochet