I Have Not


There are too many constellations

In the roof.  There are too few

Telescopes in the cellar.  Have you

Heard a sound?  I have not.  My clairvoyance

Is ill at ease.  Something in the air is

Asunder.  Something aches.  Pay attention

To throbbing, I've been told

It's a sign.  I would tell you


The sky is falling, if it would bring more

Love into the household.  It will not.

Crapulous demons cloud

The memory.  I'll turn down

All the lights and see

If the ceiling collapses.  I am talking

To myself, but foresee no conclusion.

There is no way to peer up and out.


All antecedents point

To spaces between constructions—

Hollows in the walls.  I'd scrape

Ash off the table, but the residue

Would still be there.  I'd hope for

Years of posthumous affection, but am

Quite accustomed to dim and quiet.

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