the morning poem

when i awake
i know that
a hot song of pain
is what she will offer me
when i rise
and i will listen
even though i know every word
and could sing it back to her
backwards

tired of this
i decide not to recognize
my face in the mirror this morning
and it is wonderful: the craters
and the mottled surface
a new and threatening planet

who is that, i ask
who are you, she asks
not singing for a moment
i don’t know i say
but i will learn something of the geology
before i turn away
and soon
the room is quiet

this is the morning
of discovery and
i have no idea
what song would ever be appropriate
i cannot imagine
that one could even begin
to look at a new world
in anything but silence