Stranger

Deny me then
at that hour
a name.
and I will disappear
with the fingertips
of an aging storm.

Deny me then
at that moment
your feet.
I will close the eyelids
of an autumn glade.
and swim away with the wounded
lightness of cotton's wish.

Take it from me then
at that opportune footprint
my right to sing a song
and I will fly away
the escaping hue of verdant springs.

But know this
at that hour

What you had
in the midst of waves
in the summer of niles;
a soul
sudden, inevitable
as the froth of salt.

Do not look for me then
Do not call my name.
Do not ask me how I am.

Leave me in a knee deep of torn dusk.
My abiding moon and this bleeding ground.
That is all I ask.

5/26/2006 8:14 AM - Fisr Posted