Well but some of us worry about
the coming night, the stuff of
shadowland, stareyes, moonaxe
creeps who coalesce in every alley
the moving limbs of the pines
sure that's spooky but
my fear is more palpable —
the dawnlight
the committee
gathering around the bed
to weigh the heart of it - sins
dreamt up or otherwise
against a feather
always I am found fat
I have no murder to speak of?
Tho at this hour, all are condemned,
no thing is pure
no one innocent
