2

I make my way across

the tops of roofs,

skirt a smoking chimney pot

straddling asphalt walls

and in between the high strung wires

that thread the night

with shirts and rags

I kneel on rattling gutter's edge

and from my black, exalted height

I look down, unknown,

and see the shivering curtains of your bright windows

move.

3

Fragile good-byes transfigure a face.

Time is a wolf setting a pace,

and conscience a cat watching a place

where sparrows rest in city streets,

but hearts are for flying,

rest, for the dying.

What old loves forget, new love meets.

Now touch my hand, then let me go;

I am for the tender and careful hello.

7