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—

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