Summer

Remember the days of our first happiness,how strong we were, how dazed by passion,lying all day, then all night in the narrow bed,sleeping there, eating there too: it was summer,it seemed everything had ripenedat once. And so hot we lay completely uncovered.Sometimes the wind rose; a willow brushed the window.

But we were lost in a way, didn’t you feel that?The bed was like a raft; I felt us driftingfar from our natures, toward a place where we’d discover nothing.First the sun, then the moon, in fragments,stone through the willow.Things anyone could see.