It’s been two years since we visited Napoleon’s Tomb;
since then we’ve been sliding through a cascade of days.
You went in and viewed the sarcophagus.
I remained in the park,
in Napoleon’s Tomb’s park,
on a bench beside a man
whose head rested near my knees.
I remember its deepness, its glowing darkness.
You described it very well;
I could make the space of our 25 years together
be remembered with a tomb of my own,
The battlefield of the conquered.