Don’t tell a soul that we haven’t read Derrida
That on the tips of our minds a shoe suddenly springs
That lovemaking ceases on the tips of our bodies
And that meaning forever shuffles over there, just over there
Don’t tell a soul how I changed you for a shirt
Don’t tell a soul of the soil we ate as children
Or how we turned into someone else, slept in a grave
Or how callow we were staring at the tree
For why would an ashen faced father forever slip into dreams
Don’t tell a soul, to each daughter the father is the missing threshold.
Don’t tell a soul that in you first I saw:
Just how a ferryboat grows old
The trigger that sets off morning
Our three persons burnt as we kissed
In the milk boiling over on the stove
Still don’t tell a soul of all that came before
Or nothingness will wake to steal you from my side
