Friday, October 9

lost version


the big water holds its tongue,
holds its sleep in, dares not to breathe. nobody hears the lake anymore,
just a whirring sound. highway noise, television background.

laundry machine, croaking pot of food
sputtering from the stove, someone muttering; "Something smells good--"
fabric softener and clean hardwood floors.
a day breaks in half and sinks, titanic-style, into chores.


the nurse is magical. brighter eyes than yours, at least-
she is a stocky, barrel-built, damaging domestic beast.

at five o'clock the whole city drives home under winter clouds.
neon lights hum a louder silence away---
(Who are you, with nothing to say? )

No comments: