I know it’s you
prowling my territory

I know it’s you taking that beaten path
all by yourself
among thicket and shrubbery
to a spot you’ve memorized the directions to
the knotted roots of the great trees
unimposing now to you
so that you could plant yourself
in my wilderness
the way your fingers would have
probed through layers of silk and lace
to find my skin

I know it’s you wading soundlessly
in the uncertain lake of my poetry
causing ripples that touch
the muddy banks of my subconscious
concentric circles
in the fabric of my psychology
but do you even realize
you don’t even have to be there
to be there?
Because you are at the center
of my thoughts
and your reading me
is like peering too close to a mirror

be careful, lover,
you might accidentally
switch places
with your reflection
and I actually like you
better than him

you know better than to speak
to the air that hangs around you
careful not to disturb
my equilibrium
with spider web frailty
but even your breathing
and the blinking of your eyes
produce an echo
the drumming of your pulse
rhyming with the throng of birds
that visit me
in their punctual migration
to a place they can call home
at least for the season
the space you occupy
mingling and lapping
with the frothy white rapids
where the currents of my self-immolation
cascade into the pool of my faith

know that I am here on the other side
afraid to watch you
afraid to catch you
but never afraid to dare guess
that the hovering unknown presence
belongs to you