This survey of the body
Will not disclose the mystery of
The face, calm, mask-like
With terrifying beauty
The subject of a thousand photos
Downloaded on a million screens
Or enlarged to billboards
Across the city
The eyes, serenely opaque
The mouth about to smile
The hair shielding the cheeks
And delicate shoulders
Like an angel sent to break down a door
With a soundless trumpet
This survey with a camera
Of the body, of the gesture,
Of the implacable expression,
Cannot tell you of the other
You endlessly seek
The other who is you

The waiting darkness
When the power goes out
And the house is enveloped
In feral night
With only the moon to show
The white sky and black trees
No phone, no computer--
A blank screen and silence
But for the sound of your breath
As you grip the arms of your chair
The world suddenly empty