Hard-letter’d—you advance. Letters written
above, and also in, your countenance—
hard, thicken’d, uncapriced.
Your brow crankles into sharpnesses,
you are shockheaded.
Your hairs fly out from gross apertures.
Hard and blocked-out inky hands.
You advance to strike me—I steal away
into the room’s least corner. I cover
and hiccup, “forgive me”.
You continue in great and definite bluster,
roaring ever closer; the furniture gangs behind.
In a low and raftery room, a light
so faint, where? On whatever street
we live on, at what time of day, spend
I this length, in raftery room
you advance written.
-2002
