Living Alone (II)
Denise Levertov:
Some days, though,
living alone,
there’s only knowledge of silence,
clutter of bells cobwebbed
in crumbling belfry,
words jagged,
in midutterance broken.Starlings, as before,
whistle wondering at themselves,
crescendo, diminuendo.
My heart pounds away,
confident as a clock.
Yet there is silence.New leafed, the neighbor trees
round out. There’s one,
near my window,
seems to have no buds, though.
See also: excerpt from Living Alone (I).
