Opening a box to reveal the space inside,
just beneath the fitted lid, above the folded tissue paper
it is unwrapped.
A moonless night, devoid of shadows,
where no projections cast on walls. Walls
that surround gardens of dioecious plants.
If one ceases, the other languishes.
The heart and soul of it knows.
Tree limbs clatter after the leaves disappear,
until the wind stops.
A paddling of ducks moved downwind
where the sound of me
vanished in the rippling.
It is the sound music makes
five seconds after it ends.