Tuesday, October 19, 2010

House of Escher

I woke up and knew
that I will build my house,
based on a sketch
by M. C. Escher.

Everybody laughed,
like they did to Noah.
Only this time,
God was on their side.

The boys and girls
who kicked the sand castles of their youth
so that they can build pyramids
out of their emptied drinking glasses,
laughed to the beat of the newest music.
And the old man down the street,
who was the manager of Hilbert's Hotel,
scoffed when he saw
my Escher sketch.

But I dreamt on
those dreams that were mummified
in the drinking glass pyramids
that were collapsed into each other.

I started my Escher house,
Still following the rules.
Even Pythagoras would have been fooled.
And the guests from Hilbert's hotel
who came over to see,
didn't know what it's like to be
living in a house built
according to Escher and me.

Nobody counted my stairs
to check where it goes.
And the girl I met by the Mobius Strip
who stayed for the night,
and together we broke a gazillion rules of symmetry,
never asked about the extra flight
of stairs leading back to my bed.

And in the morning
when I looked at us
the other way,
I saw that the space between us
was the real image.

Because this is how Escher works and goes,
you turn a face upside down
and the eyes become a nose.