Someone with his key has
tagged my window – scratch
scratch his little itch – so
I see him and not
the water the school the wood –
see his soul stretched. Yes,
I see and am with him, I am
in him now and go with him.
I go with him all around.
Someone with his key has
tagged my window – scratch
scratch his little itch – so
I see him and not
the water the school the wood –
see his soul stretched. Yes,
I see and am with him, I am
in him now and go with him.
I go with him all around.

The blacker the branch, the
redder the eye that
peers knowingly in my room
Once while
sick at school
in the nurse’s bed
I thought of spies
and crossed the room
and never tripped the alarm

Detail from “Apocalypse” by Marc Mulders. Catharijneconvent, Utrecht.
Not calling.
It ending.
Never saying thanks.
A rigor short of mortis
Troubled by the flood below

The action occasions silence and
periodic utterance, your analysis topping
that of the experts.
As always there is theory to consider,
one’s own team
and injury,
Saturday’s opponent,
the coach’s strategy…
All of this really is
about this,
though hearts step up to speak it.
For Kevin Cooley
And for Pieter