27
BACK LATE / FOR ANNA


On that bus again, to where you just began
to lie asleep, my daughter, now, a brother
stealing your mother's milk. I know
what it is like: it is like waking up
& you have lost a sense & don't
have any chance of remembering what you knew —
only a space, a dull space like a heavy noise
drives in you can't get rid of, not now
not until you've forgotten
what you wanted.