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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