o
nly this
darkness(in
whom always i
do nothing)deepens
with wind(and hark
begins to
Rain)a
house
like shape
stirs through(not
numerably
or as lovers a
chieve oneness)each
othering
Selves i
sit
(hearing
the rain)un
til against my
(where three dreams live)fore
head is stumbling
someone(named
Morning)
