| Gloss of green on a stone-- Cold waterfall, a
ripple down the uneven globe of this tiny amphora, this ampoule for perfume scored by a
comb in the molten bottle: fountain strands of sea-green jade and sea-light opal in
sheaths of fire remelt, re-fuse to new luster in which bubbles shift and drops of vapor,
sealed in glaze, at each angle catch light--catch light! That cry--
annihilation made, outbound forever till it hits your eye and ends, a green glow, all you
see, extinguished starlight, starlight only. Focused by stone, cleaved, bruted,
brilliant-cut. No stone like that exists, before 1600. No world--until us--in chains
of glass, hostage to signal: |
