Adrienne Rich — September 21

Wear the weight of equinoctial evening light like melons bruised on all the porches feel the houses tenderly appraise you hold you in the watchfulness of mothers once the nighttime was a milky river washing past the swimmers in the sunset rinsing over sleepers of the moring soon the night will be an eyeless quarry where the shrunken daylight and its rebels loosened, [space] dive like stones in perfect silence names and voices drown without reflection then the houses draw you. Then they have you