After a Thousand Years
After a thousand years, nothing will remain
of what was written in this century.
There will be read disjointed phrases, traces
of wandering women,
fragments of motionless children.
Your slow, green eyes
simply will not exist.
It will be like the Greek Anthology,
but even more distant —
like a beach in the middle of winter,
for another kind of wonder, or indifference.
