No More

when I fall in love I will stop writing.

just watch, two eggs

devour oil in a pan

melting into each other

until the abstract whites

become a circle

when I see the news I will stop writing.

and finally see tents burning

and choke on my cappuccino

scald a silent tongue

sleeping full, belly up

while the children, the children…

when I die I will stop writing.

buried in unfinished pages

let them rot, leave it,

fertile space, sense memory

of your gaze that night

“say something”

“what is there to say?”