Recovering of Sight
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I’m waiting for you through the tantrum wind
Drums its fifty fists against the window.

You’re far from here. But don’t I want to show

You what I do now? The luncheonette where
I get chocolate malts and my deaf neighbor

Nurses infant birds of prey to vigor.

A secret means of speech you and I devised,
Tapping on the plaster: one thump meaning

Yes, twenty-three for Meet me in the hall.

Even while I write this we’re all moving,
Propelled and plunging like the days escape

Into regret here on the earth and in

The universe which will end, that has an end,
A center which wants to tell us our names.