The architectress carries blueprints.
Only the slab is poured. The walls
are transparent and rise from everywhere
strictly according to layout.
The architectress has spread the blueprints
on the nonexistent windowsill,
leafs through them for mistakes,
then leans and looks through a window
no less transparent.
The architectress (technically)
Which makes the house good enough
and practically finished.
Kristin Dimitrova, My Life in Squares (Middlesbrough: Smokestack Books, 2010), 28.