I want to leave

another permanent mark

on my skin, to feel the pulse

under the knife today,

tonight, when it is the hour

of understanding, of dismissed life.

I watched his mouth open wide

forming a sentence as the background

of clamour threatened

with deep joy to stutter any conversation

we might have had,

I leaned my head forward, slightly,

and cupped

my empty hand to my ears as if

to show his words had been mislaid

in the pulse of ether