the Relativity of Nothing

even Nothing
is relative — with its
dinosaurs, its
black holes,
its tin slits in jail windows —
the distinctly
vaporized sense
of human ash in an oven, with
a wedding band
in a cake of soap bubbles in
the next room, a bathroom —
a bird stopped still
in flight — Nothing,
with its absence
of expected function —
a static bird, un-flying

Copyright © 2006 by Elizabeth Twiddy Poems