I said to the day: you know
my secrets, you’ve seen the abyss
where I make turquoise
out of my daydreams,
you’re acquainted with my laughter
and the pain in my legs.
I know none of your secrets,
said the day. I hide in the clouds
whenever you weep and visit night
when your desolate ghost needs to rest.
poor scared shadow,
anxious to sleep on the summit
of a drunk tree in bloom.