There is something about this room
you cannot pretend to say.
I stand by the window
where a green plane rises over towers.
It is full of silence, lifting
its nose into brilliant spaces.
Taxis throttle in the streets below,
but the room holds still;
the furniture waits at my convenience.
When the telephone rings, I let it
tremble and refuse to answer.
I cannot say why.
Alone in this wordless room,
I am grateful for the life
that will not give in, that keeps
on coming when the words are gone,
this world within world,
illimitable kingdom.