Discrete Inspiration

You used to sneak close

and would silently knock

at the door of my comprehension

we used to communicate easily

through the poem recited in the mind

one day though

you did not come anymore

all moments of the body eclipsed by amazement

they were suddenly abandoned

inside of the intimate symbol

of creation

which has been swallowed up by the moon of the wild sky

with the ease with which he swallows the howls of wolves

in the corner where you used to stay

there was a note

I’ve never thought you could write

as instead of fingers

you used to have a conductor’s baton

you wrote

we had never met before