Gold and Ivory
It seems as if Borges is buried here
Perhaps I will pay him a visit
My phantom covers you as you lie on
a ray of ash, a black oil, a deer
I have stolen the world's beauty
and offer it as I would a trinket
found in a bazaar, casually as if
it were an everyday thing
to travel through time,
to recover Spring, to say I love you
I take your photo between two panes
covered in raindrops
I contemplate a poem to be published
by a clandestine press in wartime
You hand me false papers which
will get me across the border
Naked in pink socks carrying a blue
I step into the sea
with the secret manuscripts of our
common revelation
Did you see how naturally
the sparrow came to eat from your hand ?
