Intimate Stranger

Quiet

moon

lighting a corner of my dream

His face has no face

is every face and not one

still I want him

He, who I love

is inside me without me

sleeping somewhere, ruffling

my dream

so that now I can reach the zenith of his absence

His name is his name

a secret we don't share

still I want him

His pulsing is memory

an echo begun before I was born

His voice is his voice

keen, fitful gusts

whispering under my words

still I want him

He who I love is slipping inside me

the way it was

and never was

I give him my dream

my wakefulness,

the moon in silent movement

revolves with emptiness