This is a poem out of a six-part sequence
which was entitled "Third Person."
"Each night I am insistent about this rain that
falls over a black marriage.
What has referred to this?
Like a torch, its vague insides being put out by water.
After the indifferent road,
the houses far back, their insides
flashing briefly like oars in sunlight.
The fingers of a visitor wrapped around the throat of a lamp
and said, this is mine.
And what was left was hard down on the stone.
The lamp, brawn, brawn being placed on the table.
I invent the one night stand, the rain freezing on roofs,
the pleasing furniture of Iowa City."