A sound of hooves over the dry stones of my sheets at night
My arms are withered, my bones rise to the quivering world
In the space between our thoughts are three aching syllables
~~~
My almost lover, no photograph of you, no good-bye note
Enemy, you have raided my country, your handwriting floats
Downstream through the forest to the far walls of my kingdom
~~~
Your decrees are impulse, you enter without courtesy
And I become your dynasty, not knowing when to discern
Death, by the penitence of leaves, by the haloes of traffic
~~~
From the far east, when the river broke, came rumours of a tribe
I was alone that dawn, milking the soybeans, harvesting rice
With a bronze arrow you annexed my body to this design
~~~
Which of us abandoned the other? We cannot answer
How quiet the apartment: wind stirs, stars begin to shatter
Snow is a scherzo dancing over the words I’ve lost for snow