like cream
curdled in a polished, silver creamer
yielding itself up unto itself
through hours spent in darkness
souring under a polished lid closed
reflecting stares
of thirst around a table

like cream
unable to pour when tilted
unable to drip
pearl-white perfection
spilling and splashing
against surfaces so tense
they remain unmoved

like cream
too muddled to form puddles
dripping into puddles
seeping into cracks
disappearing with a wet
translucent trace
evaporating

pouring
splashing
dripping
seeping
rising
condensing

on and around a world
it cannot move
itself

10/8/99 rev. 10/9/99