As I am someone who cannot define or effectively describe the distinction between poetry and prose, I will speak instead about its fragrance …
… Poetry is an act of memory that crosses between sand art and snow art [sand, if you pick it up, will run through your fingers, then lie on the ground inert, possibly for centuries. Snow, if you pick it up, will melt and then vanish] transforming what is innumerable and headed for oblivion into a timeless notation. Through memory, the poem exchanges grace for grace.
— Anne Carson, “Economy, Its Fragrance”