Mark, my mark, the last period struck.
Spots and their worthy connectors, twine
hung to constellations, and trails
among blinking bumpers; discomfited
by one late spot’s wink on,
its blink as it graces the ordained outline.
With the unhinging, the thoughtful mounting-
again of the needed hinge. By an added
view—the draping of meaning
connectors repeated, lanes newly ruled
between the loops and shapes.
-2003
