Bucharest

"You pass through light searching for me."
That whole street had only wedding shops:
froth of dresses in windows, flanked by serious
black suits. I was lost, in a city so old
the four directions had turned circular,
every turn leading back to the center
and the veins in my head were aching, blinding
my vision, though all day I insisted I would be well.

This pain, flint green, slate green,
tracks me down, finds me here
where I want only to disappear
on the far side of light; it nags, stealing
bites from my skin. These spines, they prick

like salt in a cut. Flint green slate green... I told you
I'm a liar. Pass through the grid, searching
for how to go on. Black grilles of iron
clanged down over shop windows closing.
Brides like prisoners behind them, forms without
heads. Why marry? A dream of love.
I was alone and you saw me there,
motionless, caught short, you passed
through light and found me, led me, finally
came to walk me home.