have we not stood
under the grasp
of one trade wind?

i look at you, and you return
a broken image–
my eyes have lost their irises.

i speak to you, and you give back
a mouthful enigma–
my mouth has lost its language.

i gaze at the sky, and it relents
an anguished star: it is you,
in the belly of the dark releasing
the moon and its lunar tail–
my days are fragmented
and all there is,

the night and the fall:
we are,
we were;
away.