01-28-2016, 03:24 PM
TO THE GIRL NEXT DOOR
As we lie in our rooms
waiting for sleep,
I know you can hear me
ringing the bell, that cholera-curse
suspended over the potter's field,
even with the whirring of the fan by your feet
and the prowling on the roofs
of the robber rats and the midnight owls
whose cowls are the color of fallen leaves.
But what do you feel? Not that love your eyes
betrayed this morning, I'm sure --
for here in suburbia, lovers like us,
lost in the cock's two crows,
we all wait for the same Christ.
As we lie in our rooms
waiting for sleep,
I know you can hear me
ringing the bell, that cholera-curse
suspended over the potter's field,
even with the whirring of the fan by your feet
and the prowling on the roofs
of the robber rats and the midnight owls
whose cowls are the color of fallen leaves.
But what do you feel? Not that love your eyes
betrayed this morning, I'm sure --
for here in suburbia, lovers like us,
lost in the cock's two crows,
we all wait for the same Christ.

