Do not look at me with love,
    its placeable gestures.

    Stand quietly by the window
    where light unstoppers shadow,
    the most liquid part of you.

    It is mystery I desire,
    the possibilities in silence.

    Turn your back, its blankness
    over. So much stillness
    in the room, we are drawn

    to peace. Every movement arisen
    from this ending of questions.

    If you are going to touch me
    let me ease into its surprise
    like the first weight of moisture

    when air becomes rain. Then
    let me drown slowly, astonished
    at the tug of water.

11 October 2001   17:10 hours
s., while in therapy { } in search of a poetry