Say now that my memory of you is elusive.
It is the cloud hanging low over a tree in your courtyard.
Say now that my memory of you is an abandoned cave
(where no one has ever lived except for memory itself).
Say now that my memory of you is the invisible border
between your memory and my memory of you.
There your memory is the signpost which blatantly warns me against an infiltration bid.
Say now that my memory of you is the smell of your hands on my hands.
Say now that your memory of me is ridiculous.
It’s there, but I cannot see it. Say now
that my memory of you is black.
It only traverses darkness.
It doesn’t know anything of light.
Say now that my memory of you is the subversive territory of love.
I will bear your provocations. I will tell you that
your memory is my eternal abode.
Your memory is what keeps me alive.
And I will live to see it fall apart in crumbs.