ALEPH, ALEPH

What do I see on this table? tigers. Borges, scissors, butterflies
that never flew, bones
which did not move this hand, empty
veins, unfathomable board?

Blindness I see. I see a spectacle
of madness, things that speak
only to be talking, to throw themselves
into the meagerness of that species
of kiss that approaches them. I see your face.