Where Maps Have The Face Of Sacred Things Poem by For Matilde

Your body will betray you
as it has to
when love troubles

We live through
the fixtures of our existence
We watch fragments of ourselves
spiral and flutter
like abandoned leaves
withered underfoot
at the edge of the earth

Always on the outside
feeling only ourselves
seeing only ourselves
in the pleasure of mirrors
I fly into the sun of your body
in your fire
for your fire
I hear the crackling flames
of your inner voice

The ghost of a tree
by the lucent race of a river
you stretch your arms
to gather my soul
you lead me by the hand to walk
the boundaries of emptiness

To where love is untroubled
and where maps
have the face of sacred things