You are moving across the blandly murmurous room when you fall
into the forest and you never get out again
Her mouth is so tiny
and her eyes when she glances down have the calmness of the moon
Sometimes you feel to look at her is unbearable
but to look away is equally unbearable
You undo small knots of fire in the evening together
When you lie still you have both become opened flowers
the petals trickling with dew
This life is beautiful but it is not your life
That is the secret of its beauty
Her hands are slender but when they touch you
they take so many pieces of the years away
She grows more and not less mysterious
moment by moment
You feel time hiding her
in that most far-fetched and inaccessible place,
your heart
When she is hidden entirely inside you
you will never find her again and the days will end more simply
than now they do

The moon is dipped into her skin
and the world tilts with pointless shadows
You wake without her
and wrap your emptiness with thoughts and routines
Every butterfly gesture glides
You kiss her the wings are hardly moving
She threads your heartbeats very slowly and very regularly
careful not to let one fall
Her diligence makes you happy and makes you uneasy as well
Then the wings open suddenly and flutter
and you realise summer’s daisychain reaction is over
for another year and for all time
When she kisses you she knocks on the tops of all the graves
but doesn’t wait for an answer
When she reads she has the impassivity of a buddha
and the light pecks at her like a moist chick tapping
at the pieces of the broken eggshell
from which it was born
You are so in love with her it is almost impersonal
You are aware that far beyond this place
the dawn comes and each and every day is meticulously itself
and life possesses an unimpeachable precision
which cannot be mastered from the outside
or reached retrospectively or entered or lost or even forgotten
or dreamed
When you look into her eyes
you know the fire means no harm to the things it burns
and all memories are homeless
Then she smiles and brings you to the place at last
where the forest enters the mirror
with the stealth of young deer
entering a clearing
She is not herself but the vapour of breath in the air
She takes you to the silence in your heart
and leaves you there

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