October
All day I have been very busy
sewing together the ends of this house,
hammering a roof,
planting doors and windows.
Books jump back into cartons:
the nails melt;
stitches slide away like snakes;
cobwebs chew the floorboards
and the windows leave.
I find myself rolled in blankets every night,
reading in the dark.
Morning I am lying naked in a field —
the first frost.
