This is a poem that is groundless
And without adornments, the lines
Expertly spaced like plain boards
As though they weren’t there at all.
The poem levels the surroundings
Without drawing attention
To either remoteness or proximity.
You aren’t distracted by pretense
And breathe evenly over the boards,
Going through one door to another,
Sure of your steps, unconcerned,
Even taking the art for granted
By not inspecting its craft,
Remembering only later in traffic,
The peace of such a pure house.