"Protractor," Jane Hirshfield
A window is only a window when stepped away from.
To swim in deep water should feel no different from shallow,
and yet it does.
Losses are so. Split into yellows and blues.
A child’s protractor proves it: what begins near quickly
grows far, once the lines are allowed to.
As two are in a room, then only one.
Death on one side of the clear glass,
not-death on the other.
Neither saying a word from inside the enlarging.