Tonight I lingered over your name，

    the delicate assembly of vowels

    a voice inside my head.

    You were sleeping when I arrived.

    I stood by your bed

    and watched the sheets rise gently.

    I knew what slant of light

    would make you turn over.

    It was then I felt

    the highways slide out of my hands.

    I remembered the old men

    in the west side cafe，

    dealing dominoes like magical charms.

    It was then I knew，

    like a woman looking backward，

    I could not leave you，

    or find anyone I loved more.