on my vacation this year I visited

the Gallery of Nothing

in a City of Nowhere someplace out of style

I heard that for entrance

no ticket’s needed no stamp no facial ID

doors of glass slid open in silence

‘remove footwear’ read a handwritten sign

no attendant in sight to ensure

my compliance

(so did I or didn’t I? hush hush is the story)

there were walls and long clear windows

there were many halls and airy rooms

no sounds but my heart’s slow beating

my low anticipatory breath

a room at the centre of the gallery

seemed larger than all of the rest

round dome ceiling of opaque glass

hickory floor shiny smooth so clean

I lifted my arms and spun round slow

awkward dancer absent of rhythm or grace

a blank screen tumbled from above

a flicker a blur a simple scene emerged

movement a body a face two eyes looking

looking straight out straight through me

caught in my half spin suspended

was there a pause I can’t say for certain

before we danced and turned soundlessly

this instructor framed in soft startled blur

a barefoot visitor on the edge of time

wandering vacationer seeking nothing

finding new solitude somewhere

that’s still open and free~