*

something to do with measures
unknown
to others the length
of my despair whether is
it by nature, mine
or a not understanding of facts

of the jokes
among men, their secret bets
their sudden shoulders

and all was lived
and built, all that had an essence

to dust them off
to cough them up
it’s all forgotten
at once.

I don’t seem
to understand other’s
measures, the sense of
their steps, it’s long
far from me.

.

.

.

From the collection of The London Hours, 2012.

.