From the corner of one eye the pendulum of a clock swings,
ticks the seconds away from my life. A last bouquet
from the fall garden, two tiger lilies, a sunflower, boxwood greens
face me from a blue vase on the drop-leaf table.
A bronze door encloses the fireplace where logs rest on an iron bed.
Pillows on the sofa comfort no one.
Outside the rain-spattered window, one seagull curves a path
of gray grace, disappears beyond borders I create.
The unfilled chairs, empty cups, saucers on glass shelves tell me
out of nothing, the universe expands away from the center
of every living thing, and I know in the same darkness
of sunflower seed, I circle on the back of the great white whale
in and out of star and sunlight.