The Lake Has Swallowed the Whole Sky

Some dreams are like glass

or a light beneath the surface of the water.

A girl weeps in a garden.

A woman turns her head and that is all.

We wake up a hundred times and

don't know where we are. Asleep

at the wheel. Saved by

the luck of angels.

Everyone touching his lips

to something larger, the watermark

of some great sorrow. Everyone

giving himself away. The way

the rose gives up the stem and

floats completely, without history.

In the end every road leads

to water. What is left of a garden

is the dream, an alphabet of longing.

The shadow of the girl. Perfume.