at home, at night, the train horn
amplified by darkness 
the same chord, now, then again

as if vanishing were simultaneous with

and lament a form of praise

which is to stand inside hunger and 
abandon oneself there 

to be already there, 
watching the flame burn down 

or I could set out everywhere
pitchers, pans, baskets, to catch the rain
Copyright © 2004–2023 Memorious