Leeuwenhoek was a draper with soft brown hair cut in two sloping planes
like collie ears. Close up he saw threads and then worldthreads and
what was inside of that? He held a rod of soda glass in flame
until it pulled apart into whiskers. The whisker tips tinked off into mini orbs,
eyes and eyes upon his eye.
He saw kind rich men walking through the dark as if through a city.
Their silk ties lifting in wind. And tender underneath. Phone wires bowing
like sails. Skin smell and mush smell of roses. A radio
helplessly beaming horror whistles from Jupiter. A girl holding
a hair-threaded needle. Imagine what must be very far away, he thought,
very very far away!
Listen:
Molly Brodak is the author of A Little Middle of the Night (University of Iowa Press, 2010) and three chapbooks of poetry. She edits the poetry journal Aesthetix and teaches at Emory University.
Photo courtesy Natasha Wheatland.
