What Is Spoken

What Is Spoken

Because something remains,

I feel it, but do not talk about it

—a memory so visible

of a lover so absent,

So, I think of the silence.

I am surrounded 

by smoke that hurts,

the good way of suffering,

the glory of touch,

my diaries of fire.

If the compass

and the games have been

unspeakable: they frighten

everything with their 

diction of fear.