THE SHADOW OF THE WORLD PASSES OVER MY HEART

I haven’t the courage of a relocated stone.

You’ll find me stretched on a damp bench

beyond all army camps and arenas.

I’m empty as a plastic bag

filled with air.

With hands parted and fingers joined

I indicate a roof.

My absence is a consequence

of all recounted histories and deliberate longings.

I have a heart pierced by a rib.

Fragments of glass float through my blood

and clouds hidden behind white cells.

The ring on my hand has no shadow of its own

and is reminiscent of the sun. I haven’t the courage

of a relocated star.