In the Eyelashes of Your Eye
A galaxy fades into the boundless sky
of your eye.
Endlessness carries you far—
on the Milky Way, now you are.
This dream you are dreaming
connects you to me,
and I read
over your eyelashes,
wrapping myself in it,
like a spider’s web.
You transform before my eyes
into a comet drawing near.
Fiery,
you burn the coldness.
And then, in the ebb and flow
of feeling,
my star seeks a place
in your sleep.
You leave this world quietly,
with the speed of a comet.
You wander
through interstellar space
and fill your eyes
with a new light.
I feel
the slowing of time,
the forgetting of this world—
in your eyelashes.
I Know the Sea Is Grieving
I know that the sea is grieving
in the middle of a waterlogged winter.
I feel sea fever at the end of December,
and fires that fade without making a sound.
I'm afraid-it's getting cold!
I shiver from the wind that blows,
and like the sea,
I don’t feel quite well,
even in the midst of June,
when the whole world refreshes itself
in the water
willingly,
when waves fade
into the branches of foreign blood,
and fires burn in the eye of a Cyclops.
