I lay, still

by Eleanor Goldfield

it started to rain

barely visible silver threads

breaking apart over unbelievably red and orange leaves

comically vibrant

I laid there

corpse pose

collecting whatever could be savored

the delicate crunch of leaves on my body

the slight caress of rain

like an empty pool, I laid like stone

open and ready

a question mark for imaginations

what will we fill

how will we swim in this aperture

this possibility

an occasion for potential

a faint droplet fills my eye then slides out

am I crying

or just passing through

more water and leaves fall

I lay still

how do I know when i'm filled

will I overflow

will leaves and water waver and swing from me

will I hold anything

or just pass through

can I ever be filled

or just cry it out

a kiss

a skimming of mortality

of the momentariness of it all

like water I fall

already on the ground

I permeate the soil and spread

diffuse like smoke

boundaries made by that which I graze

feeling beyond my own place