the song of the strings

the song of the strings brought me to this sticking point
where neither fore nor back is plausible
I sailed I reeled I keeled on the rocky shore
my eyes charmed fast shut
my mind blinded to the future

and still the song continued
as the sun spun round and rose and fell
at the end of the day or perhaps at the onset
I lay exhausted, spent
the song of the strings became me

rye bread, mint tea

Come, I will offer you crumbs of sour bread.
Hold them
on your tongue;
your mouth fills.

How different the emptiness that fills your belly,
the emptiness in my heart
when you are not here.

After, we will drink mint together
or boiled water on ginger,
for heat
for spice
for the sweetest spark in your eye.