What Each Transition Leaves Behind

He entered the water,

and drowned.

She entered the earth,

and decayed.

He entered the fire,

and was consumed.

She simply vanished

into the air.

Between her words

and the sediments

of his desires,

they were transformed,

becoming more the other

and less themselves.

Like beasts who love

in shadow’s spheres,

they entered metaphor,

and returned home.

(March 5, 2020)

Mistranslations

My past imperfections intercede

to lay claim to what I can see.

The air between thickens in time

like delirious veils in the wind.

Each word she spoke I heard

as if her fingers on my arm

traced a secret in braille

I was too blind to read.

*

Now too tired to transform time,

I watch myself as if dead;

the chill pushes through my flesh,

like a rat gnawing in the wall.

Time’s translations fill my silence

with the words neither of us spoke.

(December, 20, 2019)