I glance over at the barks
of trees suspended
in your yard never touched,
hoping to find you wandering
the same path as me,
when I suddenly bump into your psyche
and you quietly ask my name
as together we scribble something
undecipherable because
what the world which calls us
is of no essence—
what only matters
is our name in the fantasies and dreams
which we yearn to hear from one another.

You urge me to write
to learn what sleeps
in my broken lust-free heart,
as though my pen connects
to its heart’s collapsed chambers
beside the table where
your wine was served
and for centuries you promised
to strip the shadows
of my mind
in the hope to give back
all that the world has taken away
on that day when you put your lust
for her on the bark of your name.