Next poem is called, "The Privacies."
The privacies.
"In the middle of marriage a sameness and a loss no one's
love can sustain.
When you have gone, I rushed downstairs to greet you.
When you were here, I forgot.
Over the bear hill of the bed, our absence arrives.
It fills up space.
We are loveless though our orbits touch.
What is forgiven will hurt.
We toss and sleep like mute guests sharing regrets,
sharing our loneliness, without photographs of ancestors,
without tiny gold watches to wind."