you must

i
don' look at her like that,
she just likes to fight.
needs a deeper stretch,
a wall to tear down
a gauntlet to run.
don't look at her like that
when she needs to yell or cry or beat her fists against...
stop her, stop her,
she is begging you
to be the non transparent part of the night
to be the dam on a flood of sobs
to damper the explosion of shattering glass
to be the window whe cannot shatter,
to open for her
and not let her jump.
to be the answer,
even if it is no
to be the hard thing on which she abuts
on which she impales herself
the knife
that cuts out the pain


ii
there is no-
in me.
there is no-
no.
the closed window with her cheek stuck to the glass
condensing the barrier between herself and
everything.
to get out.
there is no-
in me-
the arm that loops her waist and pulls,
that carries backwards from the edge,
from the insurmountable barrier
between
herself and the world
in me-
her white fingers trace her chest
the center, where it must divide
there is no-
in me-
there is no-
and your voice is the song she is not singing,
that she cannot sing,
sucking it off your lips, the braille of the deaf mute
the deaf amoureuse
she is-
she has no-
in me.