Can three women share one man? Have the knives been sharpened? Red sky at morning sailor's warning. Can three questions share one answer? I am not so dark, says the moon, you should see how bright I am high over the planet. The red sky does not believe in the old sailor's warnings. The three questions want to share a bed with the three answers. Questions are only slices of the dark, says the moon. The journey says, time is two intertwined spiral staircases where you pass yourself going up as you pass yourself going down. The old sailor wants me to notice how the sea ebbs and flows sharpening it's edges. The knives claim the first song that became a dance was the sharpening of the knives. I say—each night the waves bring you back to me—you wash up on shore and lie by my side, cold and still as a statue.

After a wood engraving by Leopoldo Mendez

The rain wants to live in your eyes instead of tears.

The rain wants to kiss your cheeks,

to nestle in the hollows of your collarbone,

the rain wants to rest its head on your chest

and find its way with you like water

finds its level on its way to the ocean.

The rain doesn't have to touch you,

to miss you—the rain doesn't even know

why it should love you.

The rain does not need a reason to love you.

La lluvia no necesita un motivo para amarte.

The rain wants to kiss your hair,

your eyelids, your eyelashes.

The rain wants to extinquish your ashes.

Note: "Another Thing I know for Sure" is reprinted from Unbroken ( ), "Saint Valentine" from The Mackinaw, and "The Brown Room" from Moria.