Nights of a marriage are like an Egypt in a woods.

Dark around its edges mirror at the heart.

War has gone quiet.

It moves, a reflection: no.

Cheap theatre smell, rooms

settle and hiss. What is he doing. Sleep,

its hours pleat together and close

like a fan, what does she know.

Waters move slightly or do they.

Paths glide to them, to who? Glide off.


out of the marriage, into the marriage.


vanishes too, murmuring, stain

is a puzzle you do not want

the answer to.

Every war