We talked like poets, clinging
To the subtlety of pillows.
The muted touch of streetlights,
The frost-kissed beds of sleeping flowers,
The soft delight, the latent hours–
Each conceived some supple tragedy.
Desire kept us up–
It hurt so much to be so far apart
On such a frigid night.
Beyond us on the silent winter streets,
I sought you but I found you not;
I sought, you gave no answer.
Your eyes once blazed like fires on the sea,
And as I blindly roamed toward frozen shores,
Past cityscapes and fantasies,
Beyond the glow of streetlights
And the warmth of latent hours,
I came upon a watchman–
He beat me into wonder.
If I have died then bear away my bones…
The raindrops fell all night through tangled vines–
Beside us lay a watch; it beat the time.
I held you in a disassembled word.
Alas, we were a world…
Or was it all a dream?
Dionysus checked his watch,
And turned away, appalled.
“That is not it,” he smiled,
“That is not it at all.”