Late night

The house creaks inside itself

Like an old man shifting in new shoes.

Who else is awake at this hour?

Only the rain tapping on the sill

And the memory of someone

Trying to get in

 

Another lesson

In unfinished business

Stepping through the wall,

Her bare arms showing.

 

She is luminous

As though in the office haze

On a long summer’s afternoon

Truth turning nebulous as dust.

 

What a trick it is

That leads a life into another,

That holds it there or lets it go.

 

Forgotten except for these hours;

Just another page in the

Pillows cold notebook.