The Feet People

The curtains move still
and they move in some math,
I know that now. They move in some
extension of the leaves, some reaction
to the bleatings of hermits.

It becomes the ghostly white
sum of her mind, this aura,
the aura of her face of numbers,
and
it adds up to an area; an area like a foot.

Who are these heads of feet?
These bodies of beautiful
feet becoming body
areas?

Belly-button, eye, hair
hole, her mind is simply
moved in a different scale, a rotation like the
rotation of the sun, and more numerous attributes emerge,
calling itself constantly
to hear echoes, and see that it’s still there.

These echoes are the movements of cantos,
the curtains of closing and stopping this movement,
in and out, the ghost breath
of the house.