free versequiet, late
Three
Three. The kettle has been on twice and is forgetting
the third — the page has not turned in twenty minutes.
Something is still going on the speaker.
I have stopped knowing what.
A hand finds the cup, finds the cup empty,
puts it back. A hand finds the spoon
and stirs nothing, which is honest enough
for the hour.
The lamp keeps doing the looking for me.
I keep meaning to turn it off.