When Alone

When Alone

Your voice, sickle echo, rebounds

off the wall. I, a thousand Argos

look at myself in your mirror skin

for a few seconds

but the slightest noise drives you away.

I see you leave through the door of the book,

the atlas ceiling, the floor board, the glass page.

You leave me without a pulse

or voice, without a face, no mask like a naked man

in the middle of the Street of Stares.

You’re the one I talk to when I forge the sun

with your footsteps.