A star: a clump of ice between my burning teeth ...
While thou art hid from sight, oh sea that barely breathes;
while my heart keeps silence like an aged nun
comes this precise infinity to sear my lips.

My nights were once a basket heaped with dreams;
my days the sum of all the apples that swell
in every orchard and on every laden tree.
I’d not fingers enough to count my riches.

Now: emptiness. The time is bleak, unmoved. The time
is like the chill and arid sea, that heaves nor moans.
I am alone; I press together my stiff lips
on naught but this great star, which scorches them.