Not Sorrow By Elisabeth Watson

Not Sorrow Not the difference between night-filled room and day- washed garden but between both those and the inside of a book when it is closed.

Whatever those pronouns refer to, I do. The wing of the ceiling can close on the meaning of the floor and still contain a woman.

Never such a conquering as that hush, and the push of my window out to sea. Stop dreaming of a separate bell and sound--

distance is decoration.