There weren't any words for her. I found
a list of nonwords in the dictionary;
the Hierophant and other tarot cards
strewn on the floor. She read my heart the way
a fortune teller reads the lines of palms
or mystics divinate with chicken bones.
Apophasis: I refuse to word
an argument for her, or make a map
illuminating borders because I
know mysteries can never be revealed.
Besides, what would I do if I had seen
all of her then? What would desire be
without more to attain? Where would I move
if my beloved were a static noun?
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