When I am the i
that the eyes of others
wish to see
i am with their bodies
in the seas’s harvest of dead and
many times a million graves
in grains
ingrained into invisibility
on the placard of
God’s marching hand

When i am the i
the alphabetless
whisper of a seen thing
that you would let me be
because we are
not simple lovers
but unlettered phrases
in an unfettered styleless hand
i am your eye
and you are my i
and we are the seen things
that God marches by
that graves hide from
that seas and harvests
and alphabets and grains
and placards
gain form and meaning from
and would die sightless
out of our i.