Half-Light by the Window

I see myself lying beside her. I see myself lying on top of her.

I see how she parts her lips, then closes them again.

The sounds she makes, I cannot hear them. The half-light swallows

her in an instant. If we were walking side-by-side through the streets

in Vienna or Venice, I could hear that she is sitting beside me.

That the silence, the one that followed the sequence of her rising.

The rustle, the sweep, the brushing motion with which she piled up her

hair and in one swift movement bound it into a wave