I carry your grudge
As a locket
Attaching within
Linen portraits
Memories of armistice
When we lay aside
Our rivalries,
Our jealousies
Hours when we
Were more than
A weathered civility
But the gestures
Remain hollow
For you are not here
To observe
Their diligence
And I cannot acquit
Myself even in homage
A queer malady
This sentimentality
Sprouts up silver
Like numinous grains
That do not nourish
Just as ornaments
Do not truly
Define their seasons
I wish to recover
My composure
My knees which idle
As a vulture
Over dead things
But I want even more
Your mercy
This silence cannot
Be shattered
With a scream,
With fists,
Even a kiss
Could not steal
You from the grave