from As We Know (1979)
Of how that current ran in, and turned In the climate of the indecent moment And became an act, I may not tell. The road Ran down there and was afterwards there So that no further borrowing Of criticism or the desire to add pleasure Was ever seen that way again. In the blank mouths Of your oppressors, however, much Was seen to provoke. And the way Though discontinuous, and intermittent, sometimes Not heard of for years at a time, did, Nonetheless, move up, although, to his surprise It was inside the house, And always getting narrower. There is no telling to what lengths, What mannerisms and fictitious subterranean Flowerings next to the cement he might have Been driven. But it all turned out another way. So cozy, so ornery, tempted always, Yet not thinking in his 1964 Ford Of the price of anything, the grapes, and her tantalizing touch So near that the fish in the aquarium Hung close to the glass, suspended, yet he never knew her Except behind the curtain. The catastrophe Buried in the stair carpet stayed there And never corrupted anybody. And one day he grew up, and the horizon Stammered politely. The sky was like muslin. And still in the old house no one ever answered the bell.