"One Morning."
I told myself a single man's like water where nobody swims.
And I went out.
In gardens, doves were broken jars a wind blew through.
Beds of ivy were spread with webs.
Old underwear, forgotten wives, moths,
or the wrong figures of men lay at the roots.
While sparrows strained their tiny springs to live,
I heard how people damned another day.
Later, I found some blackberries under a porch
and leaves as rough as a cat's tongue.