The Blues Eyes

It was very musical though it was soundless.
everything in garden
and the kites of your irises:
in the blue
of everything I see.

We are equals with all our inequalities.
We are equal to a ladybug,
a mosquito, an ant in our path.
Skies are only our extensions.

We disremember that
and recapitulate ourselves
only in the distances between these bars
that separate us
between the spaces of “others.”

Our uniformity and our differences
evenly split us
in the apple
of our eyes.