you want it to be still
with only the heart beating,
all of it motionless and silent with only
the thoughts flying slowly
from window to window.

all of it motionless, motionless
so passing by the mirror even your reflection
remains invisible in a column where you
were standing before,
so the distance
is not widened between you
and the one you didn’t want to go.

if the separation, if it meant more
and hurt less.

if the movement was kinder, if flowers bloomed
on the day you were born and on your
birth day every year
after, if all songs were received
like an invitation
and all gestures like a pound
of flesh or a pound
of blood.

motionless, if it were motionless and without
motion if you could walk on the streets
and hold it, everything,
in the cistern of your heart, feel the swells
begin to develop a pattern,
the birds of your thoughts beginning to under
stand and light on them,
beginning to understand.

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