THIS POEM

will not marvel at the dawn
will not stare at the ebb and flow of the sea
will not see ghosts in the clouds over Dachau

 will sit on the page staring back
will remember the torn wallpaper
will cry out, always unanswered

 will not trace your spine, lingering on each vertebra
will not make childish sexual come ons
will not wipe a tear from your cheek

 will curl next to me in a hotel bed
will whisper to me when sleep flees my grasp
will  pervade my dreams.