Having not wept,
she felt as though she had wept.
She sniffled
and her nose began to drip.

Narcissus, Narcissus
He said, “Narcissus.”
But when she said it,
The word just came out : “Us.”

It is not so much by these things
 apparent
 that some things sometimes come to an end.
Rather it’s something, something not there.

 Not with a word plainly spoken,
 but with a word not spoken at all.
 One page is marked,
 another one missing.

This insistence of facts :
half-listening, we endure.
Yet without the conviction of desire,
 the scene passes like shadows on a wall.
 The hush only interrupted
 by the necessity of saying something at all.