Institut Ramon LLull

Your eyes condense seashells

and soften the wildest pine needle.

You’d command noonday’s squadron

if you knew not the delights of shade.

And a power unknown makes of ashes

flowers, most delicate and bold.

That, you do not know. Nor who I am

as I hide among the pasture of your parts.

Your eyes condense seashells

and lay bare deep-seated fabrications.

Gulls and starlings nest within you,

a feather beating at the nape.

Months slide around your body, years.

We’ll never know what matter makes you.