If

if it has to be about something
then maybe about the beach on your third floor
where all our words crawled under sand

or about the sanctuary
of shadow and fire
where you approved of me
because I slept so 'very kundalini'

-well, I did not sleep-
I watched
over the mountain of a man
who could not get ‘death’ over his lips
he just doesn't see someone today

if it has to be about something
then about the long corridors filled
with dry-needle prints
of unfired bullets
in the drawer of the rickety cupboard
in the red house
in Siberian snow
where the black-headed gull ruled
and our spiritual children
copulated wildly in mud

about heaven lying at our feet
about lilies of the valley
which were not meant to eat

for that is what it was all about