Not empty, the evacuated heart.
Something always stays behind --
goes down with the ship stark naked,
even with ice on both sides of the glass.

No one even tried to catch the bouquet.
From hand to hand the tray passes,
hand to mouth brought around, garland draped
down a long nights hunger, I fall
from loose lips,
crumbs for the rug,
swept under.

There is no room behind my eyes for their
outlook. All crows - and they are so
rude and loud and they shove to gather
and borrow my tongue in talk about
what is not
even really
there.

I carry this glass dream on my shoulder.
Please don’t let me stumble.
Have a prayer, half waiting,
I will fall and drowned like water drowning
in the fine shatter-pieces of my myself
no longer.

Running down the inside of a bell.
A lagging, lost tone. Unheard of,
the sky that calls for me and would
give everything,
has left everything,
has nothing to give
but space and that
is everything
I need.