At its heart the pool, the blue rug of sky.
In the middle of my room, the kilim
with its fish and fowl. My propensity
for arranging furniture, it would seem,
in lines around the walls, leaving the floor
alone as the focal point, may be due
not to some dullness in the soul but more
to workings in the bloodstream, some residue
in subliminal memory of windows
that look forever inward, galaxies
that spin on carpets, geometric rows
of turquoise tiles ablaze with symmetries
inherent in physics; eyvanseyvan (Persian): a vaulted alcove or niche.and porticos
of gardens brought indoors; a Sufi’s verses.
|↑1||eyvan (Persian): a vaulted alcove or niche.|