Anniversary

For yourself, chaos without demand

To speak, the amethyst nothing

Hidden inside the trinket shop’s stone,

Dark eyes dark asterisks where light

Footnotes a margin left blank. You

Don’t look up to look up at the sky.

Your ears parenthesize nothing

That occurs, that I keep from occurring,

In the poem, on the page, as you are

For me, not a shadow, but a shade

Whose darkness drops from no object

But is itself yourself, a form of time

Spanning nothing, never is your name.