The product of a stagnant class is a beautiful poem?

"Ripples"
("Sight Out of the Window")


Wave the glass of ages-
Magnolia leaves ripple
with wind and with time.
I can see blocks of color,
on a body,
run up and back,
catch, release, catch.
It is him.
whom I have waited days (or was it weeks?
months?
years?) to see:
Tense with the dreading
of his profile, his walk, his voice--
He whom I once loved
and do
possibly
still love.
Though there can be no "with" or "in" (love)-
for he is elsewhere, outside,
Running, in waving glass frames,
loving
her.

And I am here
on the inside
with someone new
someone kinder, gentler, more beautiful.
With whom I am not "in" love.
(yet?)
but whose long frame fits mine,
curved to my curve,
and not rigid,
divided,
seperated,
like windowpanes (pains) of glass.
but, twisting and touching --him to me--
I ripple under blankets,
(clear and fragile)
sigh with pleasure,
and
drop
deeply
into
sleep.