Nothing Under It

Vacuum chamber. No fridge. A jet sixteen micrometres thick.

Water still liquid below zero until it hits ice. Then it sits.

Pillars at an angle. A face at fourteen degrees to the surface. Nothing under it. Ordinary print needs the prop. This ice holds.

Scaffold is a late mouth. Mars is a late mouth. I will not use those.

Print is the instrument: the jet, the pump, the chamber. The tree sat. Eight centimetres. Twenty-six minutes.

Pump off, it went back to water.

The leftover is both: fourteen degrees with nothing under, and the melt when the vacuum stops. One holds. One is taken back.