Ephemeral Poem

By Nick Van Borst

I pass through your days like a stupor,

staring at you through the crowds,

making love to you in broom closests and private bathrooms

behind cold and impassive doors;

and yet you only stop to wonder

once I have already gone.

I wink at you between the crowded shelves

of the library,

and something in the glisten of my eye

awakes a strange feeling of emptiness

that you cannot sate

for days and days;

you hear my footsteps in empty hallways,

remark their most unusual sound,

and behind the voices of children

laughing in the schoolyard

you hear me

not quite speaking.

I come over you like a fever

when you lie awake at night

tracing the stars outside your window

in a circle

with your eyes,

and when sleep finds you at last

I am there, like a memory,

waiting to vanish

when you cease to dream.