Last Words

I hear you in a dream calling out.
Searching for that someone
you have never known. I sit alone
in a rotating corner—shadows forming
all your favorite shapes.

My dream-self does not know

where it belongs in such dreams.
Always wishing it could tell you
that I am findable. That in your equation
I can be proven.

You’ve seen my silhouette, coming off the walls

you walk along. It hinders the burning sun for you;
is a barrier when it’s cold.
But have you looked closely, lately?
Look now.

And though not in the shape of a crown

or a single, confident rose,
it is not a dangerous thing.
It is not meaningless.
Did you even know, you’re its maker?

These are the things I want to tell you.

But my dream-tongue must hold.
It holds because I know that in the place
where we actually speak
we are speaking our last words.


(From the book Selected Poems 2004-2007)