E - The Emperor's Garden

'Prove me,' you said as I
slid a razor down your back,
but drew no blood. Your face was white
and breathing like an orchid. There are
no flowers as white as this in my garden,
or as painful
to look upon.

going
and coming
coming
and going
this distance now between us is like the dry air
that keeps the clouds from moving, and holds us all in
the draw of a single
slow
breath.
It is the emperor's garden we walk in now,
and its flowers are rare and wild
and strange.
But he is away,
across the sea.

And you tell me you would like to be with him
as I brush the fabric gathered round your ankle,
that will look different in time.
And I say that he will come
soon.
And you smile and there is nothing so much like the light as your
smile,
or like myself.

And we listen for his footsteps,
walking,
walking in the garden,
walking in the garden in the cool of the day,
and remember
how it was then
when the hour was young
and the first sun was just sleepy
with waking
warmth.

And,
though it is night,
and the stars are all spread out and silent,
and brilliant with waiting, and nectar for my aging
heart
which is tired
and heavy with the blood
and grief
and dust
of life,

it

feels

like

morning.