TO THE MARGIN

Following the black

footprints the tracks

of words that have passed that way

before me I come

again and again to

your blank shore

not the end yet

but there is nothing more

to be seen there

to be read to be followed

to be understood

and each time I turn

back to go on

in the same way

that I draw the next breath

the wider you are

the emptier and the more

innocent of any

signal the more

precious the text

feels to me as I make

my way through it reminding

myself listening

for any sound from you