Our House Comments

The radio-singers at night
were our nearest neighbours. In the quiet
we could hear the reverberations
of a feather falling.

On mornings when it was still dark
the effulgence of the bulb was stark
and painful. Cups and saucers
slammed on the table
woke me and drove me out of myself.

We came here in nest-building time.
Wind in thie chimney was more volatile
than the word that came down
in tongues of fire.

hle cooker flared into four rings of flame.
Every noise was purposeful:
the stutter of the sewing-machine.
the spin-dryer tossing
loose change left in a pocket.
...
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