Morning or Midnight, the Same Hour

FOUR POEMS

"MORNING OR MIDNIGHT, THE SAME HOUR"

Morning or midnight, the same hour

requiring no telegram,

no double rap on the door;

no drama at all. Slow,

like getting drunk on wine,

or early evening snow;

when the whole careful scene goes down

past the unbudgeted sea.

I try my best to drown

under the bursting green,

but always my arms flail out.

Dripping, I rise again,

in the dry room the guilty pool spreads wide;

I beg to explain,

but no one asks why I died.