. . . who’d swallowed your gaze, the very
glint of
your heart, there
where it refracted, once, within the
wet rippling of that

reproachable mirror. wanted your
hands back, didn’t you, the pressure your

fingers exerted in
molding earth to the
radiant anatomy. twirled spoons, tapped

shadows, attempted to wean from the
rock those lost
sonorities. were little more, now, than the

residue of that chimeric lustre, the
backwash of what, in
default of
its reflections, had long since

dissolved. bone of your bone, breath of your
breath, how will you recognize your-
self now that that
gone under?