Observing the Slow-Motion Fall of a Bagel Into a Pool of Milk

rotating, arcing

against a void, a blankness

a wall

its shiny skin

reflecting light

from a bulb

bending it, turning it

now it is soft

now it is still soft

and now

it is harsher

that bulb must be

a thousand watts

of hot

white

white

and now it is gone

and the light brown circle

now oval

now circle again

is about

to reach

the surface

it is a circle

it is an oval

and we hold

our breath

in anticipation

splash!

curving walls

of white

snake up

snake down

the ring

tosses

tilts

and tosses

some more

but now

it rests

it floats

and a thousand tiny ripples

run out from it

run away from it

they run

until they are gone

forever

like so many

onion-soaked

dreams

we once had