the eastern curtains burn each morning as if it were their last
goodbye to a loved one on a train platform or at the docks,
inexorable machinery moving the beloved away, away.
tonight i am burning too, the setting sun glaze of welcome home,
the long embrace that will not end, the tightness of
i have missed you, of i did not know if i would see you again,
and in my arms lies the whole fragile world, with all its shattered charms.