I SEE YOU’VE MADE A GATE
I see you’ve made a gate
of the skeleton of the wing of the bird
you should have set free.
And it’s closed like a book you haven’t read.
The wall of a garden you haven’t
found your way into.
No one can show you
how to offer your heart
to the black rose of your blood
in total eclipse. I could point out
a few stars, and tell you their names
but that was hierarchies ago
and now they’re waiting for the metaphors
to come from your own mouth.
To say them so deeply
you can’t help breaking into light.