In the dark kitchen my unseen hand
Lifts a jug from the lighted refrigerator
A dim white sail.
By feel I choose the last tall glass,
Invisible. Then I pour
And in the moonlight
The inside of the glass takes shape
As the fluid fills it, and the moon
Claims her own.
The vesicles tug, and there is a hotness
At the corners of my eyes: She pulls
All flowing things
To her side of the world.