The first impression was not one of sunlight

but the ever-spreading lostness that you move through

and touch in the room where nobody lives

in the house collapsing down a hill. It is known as such

and remains this way after years of neglect. Some

one somewhere is mourning never having met you. Each point

constellates in the vector of the heart. You could have told

me earlier, and in a way, you did.