M E

between
emptiness

and a too full library

that crumbles
under the weight
of other's words

the pieces of page
are falling
gray soft shadows
quiet
as midnight

freezing to an out-
line
at the middle
of the floor

the room is dark
but there is light
from the moon
coming in
through a window
and you see

the silhouette’s
desperate
glistening

M E

my body, my face,
their shapes encrusted
in pieces of
cloud, in snow, now
a tenuous sculpture
bound by idea
of you are not me

it crumbles

I dream

a woman outside my house
is cold
is covered in white
because it's paint
the rain
is washing it away
in lines
I carry her to the bathroom
where a tub of water
I hope
will warm her
as it fills
she looks out
my window
to the dawn rising on trees across the way
and slowly her eyes
leave

I wake

M E

can you not hear
the whisper
of pieces
falling against one
another

my death in it

does this whisper
disturb you
out of a dream

where
so alone
you were not alone
only emptiness

are you here tonight

sculptor
moving to
and from memory

or are you

custodian
collecting the pieces
back
to beginning

look again
perfection binds me