"In the Night Desert."
The Apache word for love twists then numbs the tongue.
Uttered once clear said, never that word again.
Cousin you call or sister and one more word
that spins in the dust, a flake chipped like obsidian.
The girl who hears this flake and follows you into the dark
turns at a touch.
The night desert forever behind her back.
One place where I was managing the philosophy department,
came to a number of meetings.
It was several days' thing.
And this poem was read.
And he was friendly.
But, afterward, he came up to me,
and he said, what is the Apache word for love?
And I said, I have no idea.
And it didn't seem right to a philosopher.
But I tell this story simply because I still don't know.
And I'm sort of afraid to find out.
You know?
I'd just assume not.
I think it's a different kind of project.
All I know is what it ought to be like.