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Next poem is called,
"The Privacies."

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The privacies.

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"In the middle of marriage a
sameness and a loss no one's

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love can sustain.

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When you have gone, I rushed
downstairs to greet you.

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When you were here, I forgot.

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Over the bear hill of the
bed, our absence arrives.

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It fills up space.

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We are loveless though
our orbits touch.

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What is forgiven will hurt.

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We toss and sleep like mute
guests sharing regrets,

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sharing our loneliness, without
photographs of ancestors,

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without tiny gold
watches to wind."

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