A House Breathes Through Its Bones
A house breathes through its bones,
Its summits sit like sentries;
Though rafters decompose-
It never denies entry.
Its ghosts lie in their beds,
Soft earth beneath their memory;
The shutters firmly closed-
The past seen only dimly.
In Heaven, Sleeping
A child sleeps in still darkness,
In the place where unicorns leap,
Where shooting stars bedazzle
The night-time loom of her dreams.
Her cocoon's enshrouding satin,
If her dreams more real, than these;
For the earthly world is vanished,
Replaced by this strange peace.