That year, before she had arrived,
You came up out of the woods with the sun and the sand among the trees,
To another place and another place.
And the piano keys waited beneath the rays and velvet,
And the elvish notes in the Japanese cats planner waited to be checked.
Bathtub tiles, cats parachuting down.
In the long grass and the old sun,
And the sand in the woods.
To the place you would return someday.

That year, before she was already gone,
You arrived and the station shops were lily lilac darkling lychee glass green.
And, a gust of air blew in the church basement and the rainbow woodcut faces flipped over and her signature was there,
Her signature behind the stadium anthems.
Her signature underneath the mural anthem ink.

That year, before she was already home,
You sat on the swing in the blue leaf hollow,
Hidden from the bright sun.
Waiting with the sun,
In the room with white painted doors and white painted doorknobs.
That year, in the white house and the greenhouse and the blue leaf hollow.

That year, before you had already heard her voice,
You listened for it.
To hear it in the silent songs or the siren songs.
To hear it in the humming or the crying,
The hedges or the cut.

That year, before she had already left,
You searched for her in the empty fields,
Against the crystal paths and the hushed tarmac.
In the perfect alleys where no one will ever go.
In the perfect freezing fields where no one will ever go.
You searched there until you had to go home.

That year, before you had already left,
You waited for her there, underneath the covers and the dirt and the rain that didn't reach you.
Sending up your blue flame out of the wreckage.
You stayed for her there, crying for her to wait.

And that night, there was no one there, only rain.
There were no bodies, only rain.
There was no water, only rain.
Were you there? No one knew.
Waiting for her tears, you stayed.
In the particle storm,
Darkness cleaving darkness,
Lightning cleaving light,
"I won't let one of them fall to the ground."
Raining, and waiting.
Like that.

That year, before you were already gone,
She waited for you, sitting in the branches of a golden tree.
The branches hung over the river,
And the water was full of apples floating.
In the golden grass bowing,
In the windless night with every star.
Writing in the sky, and every star.
Every voice surrounding,
And every star in the sky.
In the silent night,
The golden grass blowing,
She waited for you there, for you to return.