CARTOGRAPHY

She buys a torn and faded map
All the continents

are misshapen
The rivers smudged.

Her faith is inexhaustible.

So here I am
The bridge she will never cross.

The Cataratic mapmaker rubbing his
Eyes knowing only one route.

I stand on the other side
Watch her put on a mask
So we will know exactly

How she feels, watch
Her turn away
With map in hand

Watch her
As she gets
Smaller
And smaller.

I am on the otherside
Sitting on a chair in an empty room

In an abandoned house,
The windows have been boarded shut.

With my finger I erase
A ring of water
Left behind by her glass
It is true that I loved her

I am gaunt and my ribs
Are showing.