ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 3
REPORT TO MYSELF
the fevers nightly for a week
I keep listening for sounds that don't come
things vanish
and we say that's life
life is what doesn't come back when called
last year's footsteps
will not keep the path open for long
untrodden the living plant themselves there
when I walk alone I can't feel alone
after all these years and deaths
how many crowd me everywhere
when I talk to myself I never find
I address myself
I talk in a language of two
only one now hears
grief makes time and space expand: both emptier
I always never see it coming