Do you remember me? I am fed up, strung on night And closed in by time. When I dine with dearest Friends there is always a place Set for you, there is always A story, untold to them, But not for strangers Who know even without saying What you never said to me. My eyes are cracked dams Above the flood plains, My heart is dented brass, Bent, out of gear and turns, Mournful, dried, pocked As rust, tarnished red, Petrified. If I look at the diamond moon I am hooked. When the flower brushes my calves The lifting scent caresses, teases, Rising with my memory of fire and stone. If I travel to the balm Paris Of the southern hemisphere La Belle Époque is wearing your Dress, the pampas fires and undulates Like your hair, the Polaris star Points at me, dreaming Of you, dreaming, My jewel, my, Little moon.