Sonnet [laughing Below, The Unimagined Room] Poem by Karen Volkman

Laughing below, the unimagined room
in unimagined mouths,
a turning mood speaking itself the way
a fulling should overspilling into something's dome,
some moment's edging over into bloom.
What is a happening but conscious
cloud seeking its edge in a wound
or word pellucidity describing term
as boundary, body, violated bourne
no sounding center, circumscription turn.
Mother of mirrors, angel of the acts,
do all the sighing breathing clicking
wilds summon the same blue breadth
the sense subtracts,
the star suborning in its ruptured fields.