Mentally resigned as a phonograph
That cannot blare but whimper,
You stutter and moan in the living
Room, alongside an old-fashioned
Photograph of a woman who resembles
You in a calmer, dry state. Drunkard you
Taste whiskey in your distillery mouth
Clandestine in the guttural, in astral
Anguish. Is this how a woman
Disappears, water-tap and soil,
Unfastened by no bilious luxury
Of a balloon? You are substance
Of starvation and heart-site,
Allegiance to the floor and square,
To those feminine who came before
Left windless and are distant visions
Through a telescope, veiled, veil
Like sheer skirt over your head.
