(i)
i’ve been reading
the fragments of sappho lately
translated from torn slips
of rough papyrus
they are
little strings of lesbian love murmurs
from a remote island
somewhere in the golden mediterranean sea
(only one of which has
survived int
act).
sometimes all that’s left
of an entire reverie is
two words
(and one of them is “chickpeas”)
but those are the ones
that seem to me most comple[
reading at night
on my fire escape
(by candlelight)
with heavy city air
whirls around the rickety stairs
each sigh toronto utters
and find vast white pages
marked only one phrase.
but [
] anything
but empty: every inch
of white paper filled with words
no longer there /
simply unspoken.
(ii)
just like silent nights
we sat together
listening only
] slow exhale
]
] lone cicada (drone)
when we [
] briefest flicker
] put out
]
and [ ] rustling breeze
]
] cherry (crackle).
to hold [
(breathing) [
] sound of dupont traffic
] gentler
] in your ear.
] kiss [
(iii)
and the air thick
with the things [
] need not give voice or sound,
lest [