Floorboards. A big revision

[Lawrence]

I do not trust my bedroom floor
At night, to wear a helpful form,
Its bowing boards, its croaking planks,
The nails that bind its rigid ranks
Must dissipate as night evolves
And shadows loiter shopping malls
And when the strands of streetlights sign
The sidewalk with moronic lines
Of hazy milk; I see the face
Of wood beneath my bed replace
Its boards with black, its nails with void
And any structure be destroyed,
The ceiling, zooming out of view
The windows shut themselves, and soon
I am alone.

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I cannot trust my bedroom floor
At night, to keep its daytime form,
Its bowing boards, its croaking planks,
The nails that bind its rigid ranks
Must dissipate when lights are out
And hazy whispers haunt the house
And when the strands of streetlights sign
The sidewalks, with their blazing lines


The floorboards drop like bits of sand
The clock withdraws its face and hands
The clouds outside eclipse the moon
The windows shut themselves, and soon
I am alone. But not the kind
Of isolation you could find
Residing in an empty home
Containing silent telephones