now we must know
that emptiness can be shared
as though
they are delicacies
delicious
in our plates
and palatable to our tastes
our plates are actually empty
not a morsel of bread
no grain of salt
no stain for a sauce
no elbow macaroni
nothing greasy like pork's
fat or that smooth mayonnaise
no raisin or cranberries
not a rib or marrow
no cherry on top of
vanilla ice cream
it is not about plum
or apple pies
or fruit salads,
what we have are only words
and they are served on the forks of my tongue
which i gently put on your tongue
and we close in upon the door of the kiss
locked
these are the stories that we keep secret
swallowed and kept in the chambers of the heart
and we keep them wondering
how full we are in our silence
how festive we are in our chosen confidences
how settled we have become in our happy confines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem