***

as long as you hold my hands, nothing hurts;

one hundred and fifty years of my “how much is possible?”

ended with a single room;

through all the windows of the world I look at the thought of you and get lost in its scale:

any thought about you is dimensionless,

every thought is about you;

I look at myself through the eyes of a weary listener;

I hear a voice hoarse from “how much will fit.”

I take all the plugs in the world and plug the leaking body -

this is silence.

when all the windows of the world are broken,

I'll breathe out the speech

and I will lay you on the bed of my peace.