I will endeavor to clarify, but I must first issue a warning: poems are not parables. There will be no readily understood explanations. You will suffer.

"Perhaps," I say, "perhaps you miss the point.
Perhaps you did not hear me when I said
I miss you. There are people who are joined
At foot and hand, at heart and hip and head."

But when I speak, you close your eyes and laugh.
That is, I fear, the sum of all we've known:
Blind laughter in a darkened room. I have
Feared such things before. Fear is all I own.

And now you close your eyes again. Your head
Shakes twice from side to side and then is still.
You lie, composed and silent, on the bed,
And I remember things that break my will...