Oriel

Everyday, we're going
    the way others have gone 
        before. O, but this house 
            and its girds and corbels,
its collonades of multiple
    desires. My baskets and beads
        and woven blankets, that only-
             once-worn coat, that pair 
of pebbled leather shoes. 
    Towers of books we chose 
        so carefully, because we wanted 
             not only a life of the heart 
and body but also of the mind. 
    At night, it's all I can do 
        not to cry out against 
             your shoulder. I look 
at any window and all I see is 
    its bay; its broad sill whose 
simplest message is linger, stay—