117 Silenced by the rattle from the things of iron, Blinded by the flooding waves of eyes within dry crowds, Severed by the blades of bridges, ripped by tunnels, To survive, I breathe the air that was within your lungs. Fragments of your face are scattered in whole faces. Trembling splinters of your smile are carried by the wind. Dashes of the rain will fall to stress your presence. Folded is your thread of steps around the reels of streets. Wakened by your sudden thaw of frozen shoulders, Fastened to your sinking eyes and drawn toward your lips, Haunted by the restless flow within your contours, I am drinking water with your imprints on the stream.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems