pictures of you

a thousand years from now, when our work
is gravel and rubbish, and a broken moon
rises over white corpse-dust that once was us.
going to meet a line of lovers
whose names i don't yet know.
in the heart of a gleaming cloud
between stars, great silence presides
over immense beginnings.
amid my many twins back at the beginning, being
borne through the years, and still safe from the future.
my own reflection in the subway window.

this is how i try to imagine
not knowing your face.