“a whole scene through the keyhole of language”
–Roland Barthes
he woke from dreams of her
to dream of her again
he wandered room to room
looking for the space
of light and laughter
she moved within
not his own tired
darkness obviously
but familiar enough
to be comfortable
as skin on skin
he searched for her
within her words
some simple sign
he could read
his life within
without another
explanation waiting
in an empty corner
like a mad grammarian
to delicately parse
another definition
in which to find
a trace of a trace
of yet another word
she could have meant
for him to hear
like a soft kiss
upon his ear
so he returned again
in sleep to her
like an old dog
curling at her feet
then opened up
his skull peeling
back his skin past bone
holding out his mind to hers
in desperate desire
without translation’s
constant need they
would hold the one word
between the other as true
and what he said
and what she said
could entwine
like lust through love
as if the physical could
be unraveled
from the emotional
like single threads
from a frayed gown
and they would hold
each other together in love
instead of falling again
into a silent dream
upon the vanishing ground
(March 16, 2015)
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