Wane

You tie me up, lead me here
to the curve of the world
to the end of the land
but who is leaving who? The earth
is crumbling, salt
tempts the air, chills it
the sea sways toward us,
then away. Away.

You step back, waver.
Must I carry you too?

If the tears I cry are part of me
do I let them go?
Watch the memory of your touch
slide down my nose, the way
the sun lightened your hair
drip then
pool at my feet, the
dance of my teeth across
your back, a constellation of
skin and freckles and blood
rising to the surface,
the story of my name

Wane

in your mouth, the song
your hips told to me (
the rest of the room in
a minor key,
derivation). We
show tears of history,
of politics:
why are we moved to tears
before signs and not
souls adrift?

Remove the blindfold from my eyes.

Do you change me as a person? Does
it split me

open or leave me flinching
at the sun. Do you know what I see?

The crowds before me.
The spray of the sea at the end of the world.
A mirror's reflection.
Myself.

You.