Poem To Be Read And Sung

    I know there is a person
Who looks for me day and night inside her hand,
and coming upon me, every minute, in her shoes.
Doesn't she know that the night is buried
with spurs behind the kitchen?   I know there is someone composed of my pieces,
whom I complete when my waist goes
galloping in her precise little stone.
Doesn't she know that money once out for her likeness
never returns to her trunk?   I know the day,
but the sun has escaped from me;
I know the universal act she performed in her bed
with some other woman's  bravery and  warm water,
whose shallow recurrence is a mine.
Is it possible this being is so small
even her own feet walk on her that way?   A cat is the border between us two,
right there beside her bowl of water.
I see her on the corners, her dress - once
an inquiring  palm tree - opens and closes...
What can she do but change her style weeping?
But she does look and look for me. This is a real story!