She does not deserve to disappear.
A brushstroke beginning bright, heavy…with a large transfer of paint onto the canvas—proceeding in a fluent, sweeping gesture toward some distant point, spanning the horizon…
When the serving girl’s hands
drop the pale round plate
the color of clouds
the pieces have to be picked up
while the light trembles overhead
in the masters’ dining room
and the old school stammers
an uncertain mythology
in which one hears the names
when the wind stops
of all the false gods.
–Jean Follain (translated from the French by W. S. Merwin)