Nov 132013
 
Sleep is forgotten, and emptiness presses.

About the abandoned house, a bitter trim
Of snow-become-ice stiffens the gutters,
Shines an outline of once-human habitation
In steel, sterile light--a still trace

Of that which had flowed with human warmth 
All summer, and all through rueful fall endured....
It shines beyond winter's feeblest branch
Far into the chill annihilation of final skies.

Those remote familiar stars, the human 
Outlines of constellations' pallid myths,
Congregate their austere silvers all together,
And, all together, they coldly turn away.

They have other planets to look down upon tonight.

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