I miss that dizziness, not this one,

not this one, no. Like something in motion, terrifying.

That’s what I long for. Even though I’m

at the lowest ebb and the danger’s

already passed. I turn over, I beg.

For something of what I had within me

to return.

 

⁂

 

But I must admit that

already I don’t know what lived

in me. Maybe it’s just a

recapitulation. I wake up and I know

what I need to say

and do. Recalibrate myself.

 

⁂

 

It torments me to carry on

without that thing there, like a

poison that feeds off itself.

Coming and going, I couldn’t sleep.

Touched, caressed. You were

my water. I carried you round at night

through the corridors. I loaded you up

like a pane. So

delicate. Maybe I’d fall over. I couldn’t

stop falling over.

 

⁂

 

But, if there’s something I long for

it’s not that. No. Nobody chooses to live

like that. Coming and going. You were

always mine. I loved that pretence.

I only knew how to breathe that way.

 

⁂

 

I can feel its tentacles, its lean

flesh, its heart beating in the

darkness. It’s there in the things I look at,

in what I still hope for. I can stay.

I can close my eyes, sleep.

 

⁂

 

Protected, I don’t surrender to the night.

I still manage. I breathe badly,

I wake up at the worst time

and I open my eyes, open them

really wide like a beacon. What do I see?

I see nothing. I see the night.