WORK IN PROGRESS
As it gets colder
the stairs to the top further
my let room higher
the view of the moonlit streets
below more compassionate
II
Behind me shadows
move. I turn around. A book
is all, open to
where we last read together
the Comedy, the light on.
III
Up here, the mind clears,
disappears, the lamp dims with
dawn. The page pales. Sounds
drift from below, the ranked world
awakes from love’s otherness.
IV
What happened last night?
Why did it end abruptly?
I followed in vain.
I, hunter of form, lover
of form. They melt to my touch.