Window

by Ruta Kuzmickas

“da cosa nasce cosa.” –Bruno Munari 

I walked all this way to find you. 

when I got there, 
I found nothing 
and was met 
with nothing but 
a rush of blood 

straight to my head, 
and the hypnotic calm 
of wind as I stood still 
to catch my breath. 

I traveled all this way 
to find you. 

when I found nothing 
I transposed you. 

da cosa 
nasce cosa. 

when my breath 
fell off its edge, 
the wind 

carried. 

it asked to be 
molecular 
celular 

planetary, 

creased into 
white sea foam, 

tiny sputtering layer 
of small yesterdays 

ieri diventa
domani 

milky egg
white water’s
shadow 

cold like fire 
is cold. 

I transposed myself
to find you. 

I creased
myself into the
wind. 

I found nothing 

but an atmosphere
of wide and gilded
interim, 

intanto