Unmaking the Spell

She moved through my heart
the way waterlight moves
across the bottom of a pool -
impossible to touch
without breaking the pattern.

I wonder if she moves the same way in real life
across skin and glass and summer shadows;

if she is really the kind of beauty
the world keeps trying to hold
but cannot.

Sometimes she trembles across my ceiling at night,
when passing headlights
unsettle the stone of my body.

I never could look at her directly
for long enough to tell -
she would surely alter under attention,
and break softly into brightness,
unmaking the spell we made together.