The Uninhabited Imprint

On the fiber that yields, on the quiet dust,
an absent volume has carved itself in a curve.
The form is not shadow, nor ram’s impact,
but the concave memory of a pause, of a crowd
of molecules pushed, then left free.

Disegno of a weight without gravity,
geography of a contour that knows no return.
It tells the border of stasis, the depth
of an entire instant, of a brief day
of quiet adherence, of mute fidelity.

No longer object, only the tactile echo of its passing,
a silent palimpsest where the air weighs nothing.
A vacant testimony, a faint altar
to the removed dwelling, to its quiet understanding.