A poet is someone who stands on the door sill and sees the room before her as a sea whose waves she might dive through. Lina took her breath in and then strode into the crowd, the shoals of jutting shoulders, the swelling of conversations and the sweep of skirts all around her; finally, arriving at Sibilla, she exhaled, triumphant. At the rush of breath on the back of her neck, Sibilla turned, and there was Lina with her eyes molten. A poet is someone who swims inexplicably away from the shore, only to arrive at an island of her own invention.
