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