you do not say
anything
and it is for
fear
of the well
that you know
I am

I dry the scar
of you
I drink in words
that I steal
from nights
of painful
dawn

I lose
the way south
the one I know
and which any star
from here
or from the desert
repeats

and empty
are you
not saying
a word
to me
who takes you
from north to north

you do not say anything
and the thing is you know
that fear
is a well
and emptiness
and it is quite
                      sublime