Immune

Suppose one day the sun rose in the West,
And starlings in Rome lost their compasses
And smashed into each other, falling
In heavy showers from a darkening
Morning sky?

Or they kicked my door open and took me
Barefoot and handcuffed, proclaimed guilty of
Remembering too much and too often,
Craning my neck to see you wave goodbye
In vain?

Or I woke up into a purple dream
Devoid of staple monsters but full of
Forgetfulness, growing from pots like flowers
And I lost your face, line by line until
I was blind?

I’ll sing you to me, you say, simply
And disperse into a thousand notes,
Leaving me poised to listen, forever
For wisps of melody you left behind,
Immune to all

Ends of the world.