At last, still embers signal the end of our conversation
and suffocate to slowly restore the semblance of the room.
The talk turns to imperatives, and thoughts of thoughts move
steadily out and into two spaces at times reserved for love. Mean-
while, the ash like the ancient city of our birth is formed and lost to wind

On the theme of nature and
everything else unnoticed, loss
of incoherence, rhetorically
coated loneliness. The moisture
on my ankles, or spiderwebs on time,
held there with the pleading, unspoken,
heard, declined. Wait until the sun set,
entirely in time and give it all a meaning,
the ending of a line