The Obvious

And finally, you did the obvious.
You cut your nails.
You did things so seemingly without meaning.

And yet, as you swept away the dust
from one gesture to the next,
you opened a tiny crack.
Almost nothing, almost a laugh
through which an ancient wind entered.

And the day, which was just a day,
smelled of something newly inaugurated.
As if the world, distracted,
had stumbled upon you.

And, unintentionally, you adjusted the fold
of the tablecloth on the table,
like someone tuning a silence.

          [marginal note: *there are gestures that are not made,
          they are simply allowed to happen
          as if the hand knew before the body. *]

          [late gloss: *the second copyist disagrees;
          It says that the hand never knows,
          it only remembers what the world has forgotten. *]

And the silence, surprised,
looked at you
with the patience of someone who waits
for something to change without changing.

          [brief gloss: *silence is a shy animal;
          it approaches when we pretend not to see it. *]

          [later note: *perhaps it’s not shyness,
          but calculation—silence chooses
          who can carry it without breaking. *]

Then you ran your hand
through your hair, in the air, in the instant,
a gesture so small
that it almost didn’t happen.

          [copyist’s comment: *almost-nothing is always the beginning
          of something that doesn’t fit on the parchment. *]

          [late margin: *and yet everything fits,
          as long as the parchment accepts
          becoming the skin of something else. *]

But it happened.
And the world, which notices nothing,
had to blink to keep up with you.

          [final marginalia: *when the world blinks,
          it’s because someone taught it to see slowly. *]

          [last hand, uncertain century: *or perhaps the world blinks to hide
          that it too is frightened by what is too simple. *]