Our love has been.
I see the rain.
is abstract any more:
I nearly expect one of these
droplets loose tonight on the avenues of wind
to identify itself as my life.
Now love is not a feeling
like wrath or sadness, but an act
like murdering the stars.
And now the limp suits
drying out on the railings of hotels,
and the sorrows
drifting like perfume,
and telephones ringing in the darkness
tears shining on rouged cheeks.
sighs the sea like God, the sea of breath, the resolute
gull ocean trembling its boats.