I pause at the gate, my fingers grazing the ancient brick,
Pulling dust from the stone, bringing it to my dried lips.
I linger a moment here, at the threshold of another world,
Drawing air into my breast, absorbing clarity from its coolness.
The ruins lying just beyond, almost invisible in the midnight—
Strange geometries silhouetted against the starscape,
Alien and unfamiliar in form and time and geography—
Remind me somehow of things carried within me.
I look at the fingers, the arm extending from its hand,
Look over the flesh, watching it bend toward its shoulder.
I rest my gaze upon the arm, the strange ink on the curving muscle,
Seeing each one in the darkness, remembering their memories.
The tattoos wrapping the arm, almost invisible in the midnight—
Strange geometries silhouetted against shadowed skin,
Intimate and familiar in form and time and geography—
Bring sudden stillness to a wandering mind.