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.