Declination

Exile, rain's domination,
abiding sleep;
feet of red squirrels in the attic
and door jambs swelled;

mouse sounds in baseboard and rafter,
collection-well
alive with new stutters,
and drippings.

My touch I keep,
my hearing,
my nose for smells:
of bright autumn leaves on pavement,
dog fur and wool,
the heavily disguised traces:
peat moss and dung...
My lover,
how shall I ever make bed
in a stranger's house?
I have absolutely no wish
to entertain your friends.