The Conductor

You live by my breath.

After the silence, the strings, then an instantaneous loss

Of memory. The wind will drop. A pitch black

Velvet scarf will be ripped off the last lamp

In the final bedroom. And in the center of an empty ballroom,

Where we may well be, a starving ox blinks.

I’ve always wanted to live.

Beauty has ravaged me. Now

I must free others of my own condemnation.