Love: born of strange nights
that turned my hair white
in the odd light
of the invisible truth.
I wonder what we did till we loved?
I know I weaned you on my breasts
in dark lit hallways of sad dormitories.
Beauty and desire were only dreams
awakening us to the fear
of making a little room.
We abandoned old worlds
for our own maps
with permanently marked paths
toward final rites of servitude.
This was both of us-
the far off dwellings in our eyes
of yellow leaves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem