Absence points me like a compass
through streets
where memory prowls the air
to keep the dark from dream
night seeks each muscle
a constant companion
between the sheets

I’m awakened at dawn
surprised to find my poems
roosting in the window
calling the wind to inhale their sail

My voice retreats into echoes
only stones understand
At noon I twist like a weather vane
over a blue dance floor
a man growing older
refolding the shape of his life
into the glass of the sea

The sun slows
and the boat begins
to drift as I take form
I guess no one
ever let’s anything go
without a fight