Flow—the guests take themselves in 
And out of the utility room while 
I dream them, flowing, always 
Backward glancing, from the window 
Who would leave open with such weather 
Arriving with each of them? While 

Guests, not people you would live 
With, guests not people you would 
Talk too much to, just How can you 
Help me? these guests are already 
Dead but you can’t tell as they back out 
Of the back room with love 

On their lips, but you can tell 
If you look out that window 
Where the tanker never moves 
Yet tugs moan, moan again 
In ecstasy, and the guests flow, 
Looking for other rooms, utility 

Being not useful to them really 
Being dead already, and they move 
Back to where they are allowed, 
Into the cavities of your body while 
You run in place because your legs 
Don’t lift—the tanker never moves.