Missing

Facing another evening without you
I am torn from myself
in movements of clouds,
movements of earth spinning
like the sure movement of lava as it rolls to sea.
Yet when I arrive
you are still gone from me
23 footsteps away;
a cluster of punishment.
A bouquet of the abyss.

When I look to the east I think of you
softly waiting for the vines to abdicate
their portion of your heart.
So you can be chiseled out of the matrix
with smooth hammer strokes
from my hands.
Freed of the coal, the black rot
of untouched shoulders,
you can open your eyes again
flashing the iridescent animals,
valiant vibrations of your rich spirit.

Centerpiece of my table
I stare at you in candlelight,
the windows behind, black in their immensity,
only enlarge you.
Making you more of what I miss.
The procession of prophecies
has entered me again
casting doubt in my mind like rain
on dead leaves.

I go among your body
to feel the presence of your heart beating
something golden spun from another world.
You cannot feel me.
I am invisible in all ways to you, but one.
A reflection in the mirror.
Beneath your eyes
you see me dancing away the body.
Dancing away the mind.
Dancing away the incarnations
of my absence.