woman III

And the vacancy exists
all hollow and ashen-faced
a stretching yawning thing
as empty as eternity
in all my days
erased erased all gone
the rubber rubbed
and moves on
I see it nearing me
I ward it off with one hand
check the time
and with the other write
not yet not yet
I have a word-mountain
to climb demolish and
rearrange
a standard I can turn and
see it raised and rising tall
all gold to mark my days
and the hollow filled
the rubber rubbed
my face erased
but the voice behind the words
my ghost on the page.

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