And spins away from us like a spool

Infecting the deadly air.

But you are as close to me as a day in a schoolroom.

You are the widow of cold leaves.

As love affairs want to nourish themselves

On letters and games, my simplest acts

Are suggestions - and you so sensitive to my errors!

You seem to be made out of children and hints!

For if innocence is the choir boy's

Small face in the presence of reasonable death

It follows that he cannot understand it,

As I cannot understand you. And your laughter

Is a sign of what you cannot understand

Which is for him to decide.

His sensitive music has covered the front

Of the stage - the actors, the lovers

Imagine his simplest decision.