A lone figure teeters on the Rock of Leucadia,
Cartesian diver in time.
Sweeter than desire is the memory of desire.
When the goddess enters you, speak.
The beloved is my enemy.
The dismembered body’s magic
Conjures letters in the air:
A tiny scrap of papyrus from the rubbish heap at Oxyrhynchus,
A potsherd with some words scratched on it.
My life is synecdoche,
The mystery of loss:
I love the hidden more than the revealed,
The broken more than the whole.
No comments:
Post a Comment