PASSION

Of which passion you speak?

The passion of you letting yourself loose

in each vexedness of your space?

The passion of you answering like a limpet?

The passion of you battling your passions

which you don’t take into account?

Then,

you talk about the freedom of the unattached?

I want your freedom when in exile

yes, when in exile, because

if you want to abolish exile

you first have to recognize and accept it.  

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Time

You said you will go to the island

to enjoy the sea

for a few days while

I had to stay behind pounding

my heartbeats-seconds

on the anvil of time

you said you planned to go

to the island, to enjoy the sea

for a few days while

I remained here

with the clock’s echo

hardened quartz pounding

on the temples of my mind

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SHAPE OF ABSENCE  VIII

The houses where young children died have become holy.

Shadows freeze and multiply in the hallways.

A glass, forgotten on the table, resembles a chalice.

A towel that hangs from a nail is a greeting from afar

and the talkative distance hides behind it. At night, when

            they turn the lights off,

the flame of a cigarette, all alone in the mirror,

resembles the lonely fire the dead children have put on

           at the far end of the Saint John field. And still

the crawl of a small cockroach on the newspaper that

fell on the floor resembles a small car that passes

the tunnel bringing a concealed official tiding.

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