There Are Things I Tell to No One

Galway Kennell

…I want to live forever. But when I hear
through the walls grace-notes blown
out of the wormed-out bones,
music that their memory of blood
plucks from the straitened arteries,
music that lovers caressed from each other
in the holy days of their vanity,
that the two hearts drummed
out of their ribs together,
the hearts that know everything (and even
the little knowledge they can leave
stays, to be the light of this house),
then it is not so difficult
to go out and turn and face the spaces that gather into one
sound the waves of spent existence
that flow toward, and toward, and on which we flow
and grow drowsy and become fearless again

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