Day of mist: day of tarnish
 
with hands
unserviceable, I wait
for the milk van
 
the one—eared cat
laps its gray paw
 
and the coal fire burns
 
outside, the little hedge leaves are
become quite yellow
a milk—film blurs
the empty bottles on the windowsill
 
no glory descends
 
two water drops poise
on the arched green
stem of my neighbor’s rose bush
 
o bent bow of thorns
 
the cat unsheathes its claws
the world turns
 
today
today I will not
disenchant my twelve black—gowned examiners
or bunch my fist
in the wind’s sneer.

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