Vincent O'Connor
Waves

first
pulse
swollen
in the thought
undercurrent surge
flowing through the forming, eager
to swell, head - white. Imagine here one, now another,
like fallowed snow, clean linen, pearling clouds, like chandeliers, nervous wrens, young girls' curls, until
the image, crashing against the crags, the lines, smash
like empty space beneath an e.
There are no words for
absences,
no words
for
this