Dazzling

On Positive Space

The ocean of grass on which I float
has a hole in it, the shape of me
and when I rise, my flat bruised space
will be drowned in its sea of grass.

I am perceiving the sky in the spaces
left by the leaves as ragged white flags;
jagged faces, blue jewels, grey tears
beyond the green spread of the canopy.

My vision flickers and switches:
two faces in profile, a loving cup,
each depending on the other,
the positive object, its negative space.

The canvas of air against which I lean
is the shape of all that is not me.
And if I dance, the negatives shift
because I am I, the positive space.