Walking out far enough to be alone,

We tried streets to a dark place

To find ourselves a hill our own,

Our arms around us, and face to face,

Coated to the cold grass. She said,

Lie on me, let me feel your weight,

And I did. I've always wanted that,

She said. I think she may be dead.

We talked innocent streets home.

It rained, raining to wet her black

Parted hair, and her mouth wet mine

Again, but we never went back.

The hill is dug away and down.

Her mouth, that time, are nowhere

Body and voice, night grass, gone,

Gone, a place no place in the air,

As if her warmth on that dark earth

Dissolved it, as if from that night

All fell away, what we are falls

Always down into any daylight,

As if any wanting were enough

And too much, and must be removed,

No matter how met, how brief,

What valued for, whyever loved.