a hiIl was never happier than
living in your house after the war
stopped being news and
went on quietly between us
wearing large sweaters
borrowed from the floor
motionless, momentum-less
knowing there was nothing left--
still we were toeing the outskirts
putting a nose in to find, curious
--sweet wintered peace.
hymns across the no man's land
of house, empty
locus for the passing through
conditions right
to move among
it was not nothing.
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