My complex convection is placed
on the track, before I
disappear I have just enough time to look
up at the face of the worker deep
insight bounces like light in my prism;
he is thinking of April
as I move further away from him down
the moving track, nearer
to the fine-wire brushes, the hot
water to wash away the polish,
and then I am gone.
He picks me up after
I am cleaned, and looks into me for
imperfections, I show him what he wants
to see; the smile of April’s morning light.