Amid the usual distractions.
And as hard to break
With their stone stares
There was no future and no past.
As light longs for dark and dark for light.
Mysterious as sexuality
We had come out of two different climates
At first with curiosity,
At night, we were each, I think...
Their faint but confident world-containing smiles,
By our opposites
Drawn into far lengthier talks
Finding the presence of the other difficult
Gradually with the hope of being transformed
If we had been ably to move freely
In each stood an image
It was obviously a wrong fit,
Looking out over the sparkling city
many years later
Marilyn could hardly peek out of her hotel room door
of those evenings
on which we could walk at ease together.
or from an angle that drew us on,
Our connection seemed about to vanish,
seen full face but only obscurely
Since I was married
They could not correspond.
That could not yet be turned
The temples of Angkor Wat
The bond of shared silences,
The relief sculptures of crowned goddesses
There seemed a dark carpet of wordless being
To tear away from the dream.
We spent much of the time alone together,
Where the newness of life seemed alive round us
Without being photographed
Would bring back to me the silent tumult