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"One Morning."

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I told myself a single man's
like water where nobody swims.

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And I went out.

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In gardens, doves were broken
jars a wind blew through.

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Beds of ivy were
spread with webs.

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Old underwear,
forgotten wives, moths,

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or the wrong figures of
men lay at the roots.

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While sparrows strained
their tiny springs to live,

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I heard how people
damned another day.

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Later, I found some
blackberries under a porch

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and leaves as rough
as a cat's tongue.

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