A New Vessel

Amaranth Borsuk

A special commission looked into 
                        my lungs, crystal chandelier
of swifts, a city, like Lwow, built 
                        around a leaven, ornate organ,
pronounced me sound for study, 
                        body ready as the school’s
for cultivation: conservatory:
                        greenhouse with breath music starting. 
Both were occupied, but my lungs only
                        pretended to the commons, encompassed
a lovely absence, a space
                        of thinking over space.
Professor S., famous baritone, deepened one.
                        Widely-admired, whiskered, one of us, 
he threatened to leave when they forbade 
                        my return (Father’s business known)
and sang an acrid aria at the assembly.
                        The fourteen chambers of my glass house opened
and the bears let me walk around
                        in my own body, testing its resonance.
He saw in me someone where I saw only
                        wind. He would teach me to control it.