The poem
Light's patterns freeze: Frost on our faces. Light's pollen sifts Through the lids of our eyes ...
Light sinks and rusts In water; is broken By glass ... rests On deserted dust.
Light lies like torn Paper in corners: A rock-pool's pledge Of the sea's return.
Light, wrenched at the edges By wind, looks down At itself in wrinkled Mirrors from bridges.
Light thinly unweaves Itself through darkness Like foam's unknotting Strings in waves ...
Now light is again Accumulated Swords against us ... Now it is gone.