Tonight I lingered over your name，
the delicate assembly of vowels
a voice inside my head.
You were sleeping when I arrived.
I stood by your bed
and watched the sheets rise gently.
I knew what slant of light
would make you turn over.
It was then I felt
the highways slide out of my hands.
I remembered the old men
in the west side cafe，
dealing dominoes like magical charms.
It was then I knew，
like a woman looking backward，
I could not leave you，
or find anyone I loved more.