Did she drink tea? Yes, please. And after,
the halo of a glass gone.
A taxi appeared out of elsewhere.
Five constellations, Louise said,
but only two bright stars among them. Soon, Ham said,
the whale will reach the knot of the fisherman’s net;
the moon will have its face in the water.
And we’ll all feel the fury of having been used
up in maelstrom and splendor.
Mother did say, Louise said, try to be popular,
pretty, and charming. Try to make others
feel clever. Without fear, what are we?
the other asked. The will, said Louise. The mill moth
and the lavish wick, breathless in the remnant of a fire.