|When You Go Away
There is, of course, silence,
Rooms open like an embassy
To check the underside of shadows
Nothing seems to terrorize me more
Light dangling from my earlobes.
I poke the very thought of you
Pry myself and the moon free
Let me polish your furniture
The wind blows,
I pick up a broom and erase
© Guillermo Castro 2000. Published with permission of the author.
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