Progress


Nobody has called for some time.
(I was always the death of the party.)

In a way that leaves
a scar, I
no longer wish to love.

(Come a hairbreadth closer
to this shining
apparition and be consumed in flame.)

I'm still alone with all the world's
beauty and horror.

I'm still here alone in the night hours with everyone.

And everything that once was
infinitely far
and unsayable is now
unsayable
and right here in the room.
And I recall
everything,
everything's
here-
what is time? When
is the present?