poem: "i stood at a stone gate"

a blank
fulfillment
--

despair is
something like that,
if you can call
what i have been
desperate.


ridden, trembling,
over a crumbling plain
i was pulled up short
at a rough stone gate.

beyond it, a city of bone
encased in warm silk,
in red and black depth.

i felt the blood beat
in my lips and tongue,

all eager to taste:


the hum of my mouth
was the fulfillment.
the emptiness of my mouth
was the blank.
i stood at a stone gate

and said your name.