“My illness is a silk flag I’m wrapping around 

their necks strangling them measuredly

but which is the illness, which is the passion, and which is the madness?

Neither do I  

know them too well only a violent gesture made one evening 

in winter, a shiver of my body when I learnt I was left,

a huge accord with the streak of sky left behind by the sun,

the bark of a friend who has turned into a dog.”