the lake goes milky in the last minutes before sunset,
light clinging to the waves as the world darkens.
I don’t recognize myself in my joys. My emptiness glows….
One of the words in the dream was your name.
Unlike the others that broke open in the air
and melted like strange hail,
your name was a small red stone
shot through with silken glimmers of quartz,
still wet where it had washed on the sand.
On my palm, it seemed to tremble, but maybe
that was my pulse. Your name smelled of the deep water.
I closed it in my mouth, happy
with its small weight on my tongue.