Once more
  The rain coerces memory,
  And shadows cast upon the door
  Love’s old encroachment and the face
          Of one whose history
Unwinds within this dark, abiding place.

            Clocks whir.
  The years’ residual despair
  Sifts downward, gathers to a blur
  Of meaning, and the heart is dust.
          Who am I? and I wear
Again love’s degradation, as I must.

            Old mole.
  Oh dear, unsponsored ghost, lie still!
  The mind, unraveled, would be whole.
  I am my own, my own increase!
          Yet from your savage hill
The dead still walk where definitions cease.