The Window

In the graveyard of the window
the hours are dancing with each other
overcoming the other
and dying
and dispersing
into the air where the sun sits
in the heavy gold
of the dusk
that carries night
behind it like a scarf

I am not afraid
that I will forget
I am not afraid
about where you are going
there is only day
on the other side
things we have imagined maybe
things that occupied our secret dreams

you are the beauty
of the iris in the white room
you are the tongue
of eight languages of woman
you a soldier
of the army of deserters
you are the shoulder
where I lay my head
when I am nothing

in the great echo
of the time we have sat
across the table from each other
through growing up
and separation
and the way of paths
that diverged
but began
at the same point
I’ve always known
how to find you

you are the color
of my longing
and the razor
of the sword I take
to the temple
and the magic flash
of the spark
they can’t look away from

I don’t want to talk about any of it
I wouldn’t know what I would even say
to you
you’ve always known
you can’t pretend to me
and it won’t matter
in the end
either way

you gave me everything
you could
I don’t ever doubt that
I am not angry
this was a gift
you are a gift
that I love
in the mirror nothing can shatter