RANSFORMATIONS

When you’re gone, I suddenly turn into a sunflower without the sun,

In a book without letters, home without doors, rain without drops,

A double bass with no strings, a tricycle without the front wheel,

A clock without hands, a verse without an ancient metric foot,

Into chocolate without the cocoa, a city with no boulevard,

A giraffe without a neck, an orchestra with no conductor,

A condor without feathers, a street without a footway,

Into a sculpture with neither a head nor a pedestal.

When you’re gone, I’m a nut without the kernel,

A bee without a drop of honey, or a selfish

Little cricket that’s misplaced its violin.

And when I’m with you, I’m merely

A man who conceals so readily

All the things he used to be.