I Like it When it is Quiet
after Pablo Neuruda

I like it when it is it is quiet
as the break of early morning
and the dream of you
is still warm on my lips,
your fingerprints
still smell sweet
on the wounds in my side.
It sounds like nothing
as I scan this body for life
and emerge as though I was a visitor
or a solitary butterfly landing
on a single, dewy blossom.
This silence is so close
I am almost absent,
distant and painful
as flight.