A thing elides a thing elides a thing
the new thing has a name
we call it by its name, its name is a picture
the picture is the thing we made together
I tried to wash my hands of it
here is the evidence
it left a wound
The wound has a name too, I took a photograph
here is the photograph
it is a liar
it is a story
I wrote it
Here is the story, it has a place,
here is the place, it has a name, I call it home
here are the coordinates
can you find it
here is the map there is the mark
You cannot read it
I am trying hard to tell you something beautiful
there is and I and it was so good
There is a place inside you where no one else goes
I walk around the outside of it, there are mountains
and a lake, its curling beach, and tides unfamiliar
I name the landmarks as I walk past them
in this way they become my own territory
Here is the place do you recognize it
I was trying to take you somewhere but I got lost.
I held your hand tightly in the hope that you would
know where we were going and instinctively lead.
I wanted this from you, as though you might steal
into my head and
take from me the story I had been
promising to tell.
It would have been better that way.
I wanted you then to know what I needed without
asking. There was something between us. It was very
thin. It was still significant. It shone dimly.
cannot tell you the name of the wound
I can only translate it.