A Visit With Wallace Stevens

As I sit by the window,
on this summer day,
book of Wallace Stevens in my lap-

I imagine you 
reading these same poems...
at a different time in your life
enveloped by quiet midnight,
when youth's surly kiss
was easier to reach for.

In his poem about Key West,
the ocean speaks to me 
from its four corners---
language of listless longing :

ljubav će pronaći vas
ako se traži sa svojim, svim srcem

Out of these tongues,
I begin my search for  truth...
beginnings of a heart muscle's formation-

knitted 
under and over
bruises.
I know I have not worn innocence
in the same way as you-

scales will shed in different patterns
from my skin to Earth's skirt
swish away, 
swallowed by the wind.

Life written with different words...

But in sleep, I keep my eyes open
to catch your wisdom 
as it sneaks past my window
in the middle of the night...

hoping to memorize
the fingerprint left
on the pane.

Ghazal of the Night  

I laid in the moonlight
my body touched the night

I could not feel you
in this absence of stars.

My bed became a granite
pillow to bleed on

I could not feel you 
in this absence of stars.

I could not pull the
heavens down
to cover my fear.

I could not feel you
in this absence of stars.

I will wake before the sun
casts its gaze upon my
body, broken.

I could not feel you
in this absence of stars.

I will let the thorn
pierce my flesh and love its sting.

Kiss of the absence of stars.