My darling works until she finishes I resist starting - craning out the upper window over the tiled roofs we each imagine the moon sets in night mist she says she sees it I pretend I don't over our heads someone who makes a lot of money does something arty the public likes like pouring color over red cherries - not delicious wrong language when she finally finishes I am in the kitchen again counting supplies wondering if we can return neither thinks we've woken from a strange dream I'd gotten to the bottom of a sensation tied up with doing nothing until I felt one way or the other in other words nothing and then being blown away by relationship never helps - did you do that? No you made me - it's all I can do to clean up from the night before light streaming off the ancient stones small windows for defensive purposes the whole village set on a slope the quest was for a form that wouldn't sacrifice presence the answer Picasso is said to have given the German officer who asked pointing to @3Guernica@1 did you do that? No you did that it amounts to some ulcerated nights some tangled hair beautiful old bottles nets songs before the sun is up not proscriptive but love all the same such that I find I would never talk to anyone whose day doesn't last a month or a year in town shopping we stop for soup the canopy's shoved back there are stars for everyone & get home drunk hoping the bread soaks the burn mornings I read my tourist book ape the population rather than look American when will I wise up? very warm & pleasant birds despite the heat we make love waiting to stop the spin by hand or the wash charges up again someone drops by to see the kitchen made from the ruin this regular stuff emerges as an image something scary something to hurt us to make us dead & art - she never wakens me so when I'm awake I'm unguarded could it be relationship & not matter with whom? as easily as this sky be a diagram & not an embrace same sky different death's head behind it small jar of anchovies olive oil & salt | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HELEN OF TROY by SARA TEASDALE THE SOUND OF THE TREES by ROBERT FROST MADRIGAL: 109 by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI |