We shall learn

how the footsteps should be

printed together, so that

the light of the Moons

does not hurt when we

count them and stars

will keep their distance

We shall learn

through the rhythm of

a raised eyebrow and

quivering lips, the same

truth only an ant in a

puddle of honey can reach

Bitterness surfaces in the middle

of a spring fountain

nursing a garden of roses

and thorns

under the second Moon tonight

A tear of wonder

born in the movement of

your lips, up against

your cheek, but

sacrificed to the

blink of your eye

By now the Eclipse should have informed me

You will not be there