"I take away my hand, which writes and speaks much."
—Jaime Sabines
I take away my mouth,
Which remembers nothing I say,
Though I speak loudly and often,
With everything on my mind.

I take away my heart,
Which never quite forgives me,
And I remove my ears,
Which have no feeling for song.

Moving between two lights,
Over white stones at midnight,
Past nine black boundaries,
I take away my shadow.

Here is history with its burning questions
And theory with its doubt—
I give them to a ridiculous man
Who smells of the sea and slow dancing.

How good it must be for the rain
To roll around on the street
And commingle with each surface.

The world is nothing much—
Grass and rubble and such.
I'll put it into a camera
Filled with silver and potential.