Despite circling thoughts of the Apocalypse,
Was it possible that all this could still be
Carrying on continuously? Every night,
Daughter fell asleep to Essie Jain in the nook
Of the tiny cabin by the long glimmer
Of the steamboat-swallowing, sturgeon-
Harboring, skyscraper-deep lake. Oh, I love
You, oh I love you, oh I love you most of all.
The calculated trust of the world collapsed
Slowly, like a circus tent coming down, like
An elephant kneeling, and the vultures were
Reeling, but not really. In the real really, we
Remained forever dreaming our lullabies
In the borrowed cabin where we squatted
And played Catch-the-Stick or One-Minute
Sketches. Where? There is no where. There
Was the lake like muscled chain mail outside
The dimming window, the recorded voice
Singing, I'm not afraid of the dark--I'm just
A baby, a baby, a baby baby. . . .
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