144 We watch ourselves performing on the stage, Hiding, in fear, behind coulisses. Stunned in the dark, we can just listen To lines we, In the lightning, Ought to say. We stand so close, invisible to wind, While, in the play, we are Asunder -- Fleeing the raining lines of drama, But tied, with tongues, to the unspoken script. And every night, we raise the curtain up, Wincing With every word of Thunder -- Pushed, in the dark, towards each other, When watching how the storm is splitting us.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems