Thanking silence for silence with silence
I stopped thinking,
like this clock not wound for three days,
about the past carried like a wet beam from the beach.
For everyone has in them
a friend and an enemy,
and only dreams separate them,
that is, the content worn to the end like old pants.
And though we don't despise only air anymore
if I were to express gratitude,
it would have to be rain - I guess - a flood, a downpour of stars.
So much love that only a rabbit’s heart can keep up.