Translucent Compositions

Yesterday, I held up a page
torn from Glamour magazine

to a bright light. Each side
showed a full-page fashion photograph.

The bright light revealed
a translucent, composite scene. I smiled.

The fashion girl
from one side of the page seemed to be sitting

in the lap of the fashion girl
from the other side. One girl’s

leg even seemed to pass through
the other girl’s embracing arm.

Today, it occurs to me
as I sit here by that same light

that the events of yesterday
and the events of today

also reveal
a translucent composition. In my mind

I see me sitting here writing,
and standing behind myself

looking right through that sexy page
from the fashion magazine.

But before I even begin
to speculate about how

someone, somewhere
carefully arranged those photographs, so who

carefully arranged me,
my first whole real thought is, damn it all,

that I’d rather have been part
of the fashion composition.

I frown. I’m never
in the right—so to speak—conspiracy.

But, like someone, somewhere
turning a page, that thought fades because

then it occurs to me
that my—so to speak—conspiracy

and the other
reveal a translucent composition, too.

And there I am! See?
My leg fits right through that fashion girl’s arm.

Translucent compositions.
I see them clearly. You can, too.

Just hold up this poem
to the proper illumination.