Tonight I turn sudden from sunset

for one trickster's glimpse: You,

     star-garlanded; clouds

your laughing breath.

Tonight I sing Meera's strength

     out of tune, hesitant

with too much knowing, love

Tomorrow I'll speak tuneless

in accents that laugh

at mine.

     (You know I've stolen butter,

     fresh-churned, to taste

     cream on your lips)

Tomorrow (with questions always questions

wheezed through breathless fingers) I'll know

     I'm no Meera; never find

her sure voice. Tonight, love,

I only know you.

     (my fickle tongue

     remembers only whey)

Tonight I dance peacock feathers

to flute song dark

as twilight skin. Tomorrow

     I'll know the lie: recordings, steps,

sounds I learned by rote. The empty sky.