A DAY OF NOTHING IN THE MULTIVERSE
What comes next doesn’t really matter.
A stripe of light, watered down,
the television a parliament of owls
to wind me up, set the tension
on an internal spring. Considering this:
definitions are softening. What is the world
if not an arctic of sound, a bowl of seeds,
a room of cuckoo clocks?
As though the rain on the concrete
is not rain, and there is no concrete.
It is inside or outside, it is a sky blueing
or a platelet whitening.
How the air bends and light slows down
to size up each particle it encounters
as a potential dance partner,
to samba for a moment that is forever
or only a fractal second, or never at all.
Julie Cameron Gray is originally from Sudbury, Ontario. She is the author of two poetry collections: Lady Crawford (Palimpsest Press, 2016) and Tangle (Tightrope Books, 2013); and has previously published in The Fiddlehead, EVENT, Prairie Fire, Carousel, and Best Canadian Poetry. Lady Crawford was shortlisted for the Pat Lowther Award in 2017.