Once,
I heard you sing...

I thought I knew
my place in the world...

You know, you really do give me strength
in your fractured fragility...

They said I was born as a teardrop
to evade your grasp...

Your words,
when they came as whispers...

The prosody of your speech
And the melodies of your eyes...

The constancy, the repetition:
that’s what I loved...

I don't know who or what or when or where,
but the faces by the window blur and smear...

So here we hang
on the wishing tree...

When we looked into the horizon, so deep
and sunken into the setting sun, we could...