If you tell me once again
That you are fine, when
All the distance between us
Stretches like the setting of an ancient sun
If you say you are just thinking
When the stare you give to
Nobody, and in no direction, could
Scream if it only had the lungs
If you awake once more in the night
And tell me it was truly nothing:
Then that honest nothing of yours
Has no place in this house.
This fine and thoughtful, honest nothing
When I see how it delights in you,
How it plays on you: I swear to you,
It is no friend of mine.
And if I only had the hands
To grasp this truthful nothing by its truth –
I would protect you from it. I would take it.
I would unmake its nothingness for you.
Dedicated to the person, for whom I am Dedicated.
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