All Our Accomplices

Good morning, my hands! you who the comb into my tangled hair plunge, and part the disheveledness of the night from my head. Good morning, my fingers! you who put rouge on my pale face and the footprints of the night's tears erase. Good morning, my feet! you who lift me up and carry on your shoulders the weight of my shoes and my weight in the street and keep me among people like a steadfast woman in the shelter of great wealth. Good morning, my lips! you who hid – in this sweet complicity – my sighs the roars of my storm the secrets of my ships and my dread of the iceberg and you hide – in the separations of my love – my heartrending wails within my breast and secretly, in secret, from the deep water you bring out the little heart and fit it again into my breast: a heart in which a face is engraved that calls me into its heart: nowhere only in this empty bed and in this wave of the voice of longing that comes from the depths of space, winds through me and burns me burns me, with its quick hot breaths night until morning... Good morning, my body! you who hid me and him – from the eyes of highwaymen – forever like a coiled snake on a great treasure in the ruins...