Two Poems

Time after time, come back to me;
come back, sense that I once loved.

Come back at dusk, when shadow
all day exact along the pavements
loosens and spreads;
as her hair would loosen on the pillow,
as now another's
spreads honeyed in the breeze.
Time after time, come back to me.

Come back at morning, when hands
unclench unthinking, and touch
and do not remember;
again the streets rotate their shadow,
the years murmur
from the shelf, and will not cease.
Time after time, come back to me.
...