I must go back briefly to a place that I have loved
where the sun falls between fraught iron grills. where the ant makes its way from one end of the platform to the other. where the leaves haven’t forgotten the taste of yesterday’s rain, that the spider has saved up in its web, to slake the thirst of a lover. where the evening speeds swiftly towards the night, and I want to slow it down with the pace of our conversations, that end with an unanswered question. because that is what love is made of, todays with unanswered questions, that see, without being seen, their resolutions unravelling as tomorrows.
I must go back, I must
to tell you those you will efface I have loved
everything washes away, everything stains.
