Painting by Berndt Savig
from Mirrors for Gold
This self-imposed silence,
slip of paper in half
& this walk up the coastal
hills of Santa Barbara to
the violent glow of sundown --
we returned to the manor house
& groped through the dark
to articulate division
of a body by the senses.
In truth you were nameless,
perhaps the mantic instance
fumbled for, inadequate
speech in which to plead
the approval of our forebears,
a coherent public space to be
constructed, in which the self
assumed significance,
as in I wrote this or your
torso, steadfast, against which
my body were dispensable.
Roberto Tejada
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