You smile. I have the feeling we worked
beside each other building the Tower.
You said: ‘Would you’
I said: ‘Here’.
We piled high places and toiled at bricks.
Small miracles issued from our hands.
Now every ‘Would you’ meets with silence
and every ‘Here’ is a last act of grace
before our ways are confounded.
Only stammerings and memories stir in Babylonia.
Love songs die out before they catch fire.
You ask for my heart in its wholeness
and I know: once more we are scattered.
We’ll wander alone, one language between us
and our hearts divided, subdivided.