Thursday, May 24, 2007

still life, with memoranda (1)

wooden chair
   fabric of a fine dress
   on its arm, its shoulder, its back

  after the evening rain
                two nights ago,
I looked out of the window—
a few cars
        every once in a while—
and even after we made love
     I was tired
             and tragic.
I told you
     I was trying not to be depressed,
but there are times
   when this anguish
          overtakes me—
that night,
  even the streetlights
were crying.