Afterward

My evenings are recurring dreams

Of winding stairs and narrow halls at dusk.

I journey toward my separate doorway. Strings

Of darkly gleaming bits of glass

Hang twirling slowly in the gloom

As sprays of colored light go drifting like

The universe across

The secrets of my single room.

I step inside, and for a time

It is-like Genesis! Transparent clouds

Of emerald, rose, and amber sift

And tumble past the papered walls

A closet door, a blue-white mirror.

Then gradually each slowly turning blur

Grows steady and resolves itself

Into a single, gleaming star-

My eyes adjust; I am aware

Of myself, an empty room, an oval mirror,

The silence and one hundred one

Different ways of playing solitaire.