I looked in the empty window Where your eased stood in shadow And the broom leaned in the corner As I left it, after sweeping, When we cleared away your paintings, and you packed them in the car. I stood there in the twilight And I felt the surge of darkness As it flooded from the rafters And came down to touch your door In the softening of the moonlight, and the cooling of the day. I remembered how the saddle Hung along the whitewashed wall, and The black outlines of your drawings, And the blurred shapes gathering volume As you worked there in the sunlight, with a book beside you hand. I remembered how the thunder Broke one day when we were talking And we rose and watched sky blacken In the courtyard, and the rain Came and slanted down your window, and we lay and watched in slide. I stood, and darkness thickened As it drifted from the zenith, And I felt the cold of night seep Through the thinness of my shirt As I turned away in silence, and the moon shone round and full. I came in to this bare table By my window, where the noise Of late traffic from the freeway Shook the balance of my mind, And I felt your image tremble, and I moved to hold it still. 1980 |
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