An Empty House Is the Loudest Music

You disallow that it is late;
that the stars
are splayed in a rash
attending the moon;
that it refuses.

There is a mirror in the room
you didn't request, didn't place,
yet are glad for;
an illustration the size of
can't remember.

The spotted sky
mocks the effort
that put it there;
all those lights must be
putting on someone.

You touch yourself, &,
forgetting the time,
rock in the easy chair
the way that, for a while,
is something.