We need to hang it plumb—
as if a weight dangling
from the center of the frame
would plunge straight through,
you say, a clean line
to the Earth’s core. The level helps,
yes, but the eye knows best,
sees vertical even when
walls and ceiling meet at a tilt,
when there’s no absolute
on land that shifts and splits.
The walls are skewed,
I see it now and ask you
to swing the left corner up—
the next try of the level
moves the bubble out of center,
but no matter. I look at the picture
and know that it’s trued.

First published at the Northwest Cultural Council Juried Exhibition, “The Look of Love,” November 2007