and I begin again: I am many persons.
and I multiply each crown by the strength of my patience.
and I will one day kiss every cluster that rings the house, mark me
and I will speak no words, but there will nevertheless be my body, a wax mould
as it always was. I am supine at the edge of a window. I am spreading
a palm upwind. All inert, ignorant to the inlay under my feet: tender
as skin, as I begin again. tender as I came again to the house I rang
a bell and was beckoned in. I ask you: would you have returned the same, having
apprehended such a face? would you have breathed, ate, walked to and
from, a little disc of gold
under your tongue? Am I fool for
refusing to speak of it? An invitation: please come.