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Days I have held,
days I have lost,
days that outgrow, like daughters,
my harbouring arms.
I read; I travel; I become.
Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.
“What are men? Children who doubt.”
I consider the sound of the sea to be part of my body.
“The future happens. No matter how much we scream.”
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome.
“Summer for prose and lemons, for nakedness and languor, for the eternal idleness of the imagined return,
for rare flutes and bare feet, and the August bedroom of tangled sheets.”
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