Poetry

You will change one
day, in rattling bones, trying
to make yourself whole.

Living in heart only
for transient love. Was it possible
to become immortal in poems?

One day I will meet
you outside the moon. Where
our embraces have gone?

A street car stumbles
on rocks of broken windows.
Now I cannot see your face.

What was left in
our hands. I read daily your
lines. They cry every night.