I enter the moonless forest
like a messenger given news
in an unknown tongue.
Its floor damp with moans: an ecstasy
of lovers worming upon each other

blows through me.

I no longer fear
falling through.
Between trees the sky yawns my emptiness.

My broken body, contorting into
the question
I had beat upright all these years
when I was lost
on the undeviating path, falls
like everything,
under its own weight
into this cavity.
Where nothing interferes,
nothing demands feeding.

I will already be cold by the time he comes home.

All day I picked up fallen leaves
to give him a new view, rearranged
the furniture to impede his routine,
lit a fire to warm the space
his absence spares.

Between us the moon cycles twice before
his eyes catch mine,
and I am the transgressor.

Our distance was once productive,
still enough to support my call;
now I can turn my head in every direction
and remain alone.

I was sure to find him waiting when I came
through the kitchen door, ready to meet me
like a landing dove
his nest. 

But I fear I cannot hold him,
poor container I am.

He will have to enfold himself to find me here.

for Elise

I became a constellation when I died,
which was a cruel joke, since as a child
I had always shuddered when my mind crossed
outer space.

It is horrible to remain together and separate
at once,
my gaze dispersed across vastness
in myriad points of light,
and the voice I always knew
fallen away 
like a stone
as the hours grow
thinner

 In death I am whatever the naked eye
can determine;
take comfort to know not even the end
is shapeless,
it really does contain—

Now, I can finally stare into my own eyes,
but even after life,
it is not enough
to be alone

Let the others win the contest
for the last glimpse of God.

I wonder when they’ll notice
I’ve stopped swimming,
the mermaids
circling below,
their eyes as sharp as their smiles
as they glide their hands over their polished bodies,
barely cloaked in the depths.

Thrashing rock to rock

Take share in the pain and you will hurt no more, 
they promise

These waves can rock you to sleep
for all eternity,
but you’ll never dream
under empty sky;
Leave your eyes beneath the glaring sun,
there’s nothing to guard
down here

Only dead things float:
to live means to break
contact
with the surface.