Where will you go from here
but into silence and the expectation of silence?
The walls of your apartment begin to slant in the shadow-light.
The windows wane, diminish, and illuminate.
Dusk is appropriate for you.
Dusk, the colour I most trust you in.
You were the Manhattan dark that is never dark.
I was always a village of fog,
most at home when resting lightly on the earth.
What else may be said
but dusk,
the late repose of shadow in October,
and a building silence
with everything possible still to be said?
but into silence and the expectation of silence?
The walls of your apartment begin to slant in the shadow-light.
The windows wane, diminish, and illuminate.
Dusk is appropriate for you.
Dusk, the colour I most trust you in.
You were the Manhattan dark that is never dark.
I was always a village of fog,
most at home when resting lightly on the earth.
What else may be said
but dusk,
the late repose of shadow in October,
and a building silence
with everything possible still to be said?