We speak of her from time to time
I hear of her likes, her loves, her cruelties
I know what she was like in bed
I was told of her priorities, her anger, her shame
Not once however
Was I told her name
How many suns had to pass
Before he forgot how to speak it
How many sandstorms fought
To erase the way it sounded
Falling from his lips
What rivers carved
Their way through rock
What night fell
In a silence that held
And failed to end
And what is the shadow that remains
After they have both passed on
Casting gray 'cross memory's threshold
Stark, mute, and nameless
