I'm nothing she hears

[ I'm nothing she hears ]
                                              (for CMF)

If at any moment the sky is full.
If you give milk away, by nightfall,
we'd see them coming, the clouds,
and need their cover. Is it your struggle
to take care of water? The shape of my voice
held its din in the evening
because my first syllable is already
heading toward historical realities.
Sometimes I write you love letters
because the grief of my lyric
resounds in the hundred-tongued flower.
It started to rain. My song never arrives,
it survives as the poem's desire
as the future is only promised.
That's the nature of a future:
thinner you grow, wandering words
only begin to imagine your image.
Time burrows into us; don't say it is
a mist. The rain gives another layer
of falling. Just another evening shower.
Sometimes, I find myself rocking to sleep.
It's cloudy. I must look like someone
unfamiliar with this dark. I claim
important silence in the urn
with you. I've had lovelier dreams
of talking and sweeping the floor
only I didn't think of myself
alone in a house. Shall I coax the mouth
of partnership everywhere you go?
One night I shut my eyes to keep
darkness out, I slipped under
the covers so that my shoots emerge
as angelbodies as the sun stretches
on the floor, one night, all over town,
your shadow was a caterpillar
and a butterfly, which I followed.
But now your whirring wings
speaks shadows. Here is history.
When I sleep alone I don't even know
that I don't even know what I'm missing.
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