I sit in my den that needs
Dusting, for four years.
But the dust has become a guest
Or I a guest of the dust,
An accumulated identity
That buries me
With companionship,
That to mop is to murder.
For Louise Glück
I sit in my den that needs
Dusting, for four years.
But the dust has become a guest
Or I a guest of the dust,
An accumulated identity
That buries me
With companionship,
That to mop is to murder.
