Picture how sound say the last
bars of a Faure track or a plane flying out
enters silence without simile without
entering silence like an arm diving in
to a sleeve where it then disappears if you could
picture sound, as though you were deaf
that sound becoming not is not
the silence it says after itself that you hear nor
a sound that has been listened to
then erased by comprehension as it is
to one who never could have heard it,
when it’s gone, it would be as if somewhere
you would have to imagine if you wish to
imagine that reading, just reading,
or writing poems for a life like anywhere
takes you somewhere a place
where if someone should want to find you
in the same world you could be found.