I'm back where my life and I parted ways.
I'm talking to the coffeemaker, to the face
towels folded by the sink, to the air
conditioner that conspires with my enemies. Even now,
in the midst of my extremity my eyes are dry,
and if I jump repeatedly against the window
I can tell myself I'm being lifted by a great joy -
until the glass smites my face and I cry out
your old name. The room is empty, lonely
as a still life, but the water stains speak
with your voice, Honor me, honor everything.