This room is silent.
No there is a background hum
Machines cooperating to sustain us
In impersonal almost bearable stasis
Stray traces too of other people flicker down
As steps, doors, fragments of voice

And my wife sleeping
Waking

I get up make her coffee

The sunlight when I stir the curtains
Blinding, glorious, ecstatic

We shall leave
We shall return

Each day to begin
In darkness or in light
In this room or another
To be dived into
A bright lake of dying



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