I have lost only what the moth loses

in the candle flame—ash.

I have lost what falls behind

the turning sunflower—shadows.

I have lost the milky scales that cover the eyes

of a snake about to shed.

I have lost what the skeleton gives upto the worms and the bleaching sun.

I have lost the empty husk a cicada leaves

for a few months in the chorus of summer after seventeen years in the ground.

At the baggage carousel

I couldn't find a tagwith my name on it,

because all the tags said

YOU.