The Remains
I empty myself of the names
of the others.
I empty my pockets.
I empty my shoes and leave
them beside the road.
At night I turn back the clocks,
I open the family album and
at night at myself as a boy.
What good does it do?
The hours have done their job.
I say my own name.
I say goodbye.
The words follow each other
downwind
I love my wife but send her away.
My parents rise out of their thrones
into the milky rooms of clouds.
How can I sing?
Time tells me who I am.
I change and I am the same.
I empty myself of my life
and my life remains.
