No Help for That | Jackie Clark

Another night of falling
asleep, humming over

outside noises, over
imagined attributes

& limited replication.
Another night in restful

presses, respondents
amiss & inexplicably

mute. The pleasure
of thought interrupts

what waits outside
while reoccurring motifs

condition each stride
along what is soon to be

morning. Returning
leaves a sense of departure,

recalling the way the house
felt gloved by trees.