If I knew my name
the sky would be a blue curtain
drawn open to let in the sun, a shelter
over arms and legs and this ache in my chest
exposed to the distance above
that is filled by only light and wind
and cannot be bridged.
Rocks and grasses press into my back;
they push me toward the weakening sky.
A name might tether me
to this patch of green
or to the stunted tree at my side
that does not know which fruit to yield
so it can never blossom.
As day opens wide to night, the stars
fail to hold their places; the sky is left
unlit and bare. The Earth lets me go,
and I fall into a bottomless well of forevers
where my body's cold
and my heart is a hole.
An ocean of questions pours
out of my eyes. There is so much water
it cannot be contained;
its own depth is hidden
by a reflection of a vision
on its surface held still and waveless.
When you turn away from me
you take the face I mirror; I'm left
to look into darkening depths,
to watch as an undercurrent claims me.
I calmly drown with my eyes emptied.
If I knew my name I might risk to tell you. Maybe
you would call it. I would turn to answer
and look away from the sky and water
to study my own hands held open
in the sunlight.
