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Somewhere in May falls
this same drizzle. The same sky
shrouds a city I loved
enough to let it go
barely looking back
I return on occasion. To stare
you learn against your will, over time
all faces vanish away
behind a window. Hands
twitch or thin they
touch in May or now
what is not there
utters your name, tentatively
fingerprints spell
pieces of dirt on the glass
block the sight of waterdrops.
Once upon a time there was a deadless city
in that city I forage your voice
the two legs of desire crawled
on old yellow tiles
One noon I was about to fall down
fainting under the weight of a wing
destruction had already begun, animals
howled as instants before the earthquake
we confused our desire to love with panic
for the future came that whiff of the moribund.
Meanwhile we walked, meanwhile
we went through the darkness as if it was our right
we dodged the rain in dilapidated rooms
we counted the seconds left to enter
in reality faces are always cruder
gestures less sharp
a hand waving in the air is not a goodbye it is
a blow
that did not happen, a blow
suspended in the sky unseals the scar.
Nobody knows if they will survive, nobody
knows if they will spend years in silence, crouching
the pavement awaits the drops motionless, this rain
this identical zinc sky. The alloy
takes place, a face swaps itself into the distance.
When I was complete, something says.
Before the war, someone or something
says: before losing what I was destined
to lose
somewhere in May, before
shrinkage and before subtraction
ruins looked delicate. Never
have I known what name to give
to those who lose a sister. Are they
orphans are they bereaved are they injured?
Antigone claimed this was the irrevocable
loss. Before laceration
this sky occurs, perpetually
the same drizzle dangles from your hair
or mine
how strange it has been to grow old without
imagining a leaf alight on your shoulders
without graves without cavities the city
open your mouth, swallow
your own words what you said:
immortality lasted so little.