Even though birds Are creatures with wings. Walks slowly back to a room abutting mine. I am on this side, sitting. It is uncomfortable trying to be quiet. And the sound of water rushing in Filling a tub in the other room Makes a loud continuity, As though many people might be living here, Twining their arms about me, Passing me in the hall, Making tender jokes.
Sunlight enters the room near the ceiling.
And shadows of leaves letting go Flash in downward slants Falling inside the room To sink through the floor. And I listen With my ear against the plaster. I crawl up the couch leg feeling Your blond hair, your bloomy skin. I am afraid. The words and music tremble And thunder my thin blood.