His companions fell asleep on the hawsers in the stern;
and she came, took him by the hand and led him
a little ways above the shore; she lay down beside him

All night long, on all sides of the house, there ate large, black, invisible horses
grazing in the stubbled field. Their legs are tied. The sound of their hooves
moving across the dry sheaves, is the only living thing in the world.

Time slows down, the light smoothes out surfaces, seeps
into old closets, drawers, and underneath the beds;
dries the pillow’s saliva, abrogates the winding of the stairs,

This cluster of small houses, gracefully etched
against the sky and sea, with its fine harmonies
of line and color—who would suspect the vast