Afternoon

The ice held the eves
like spoons their kitchen
like the pink
that holds the earth
at four in January

And the clocks run back
back slow, wasting remembering
voices bore like a mantra
secretaries meditate
interns levitate
every door glowed
golden like an oven

And you stayed there late
incandescent in your corner
fools all ringing
busy signals to hell
straight line to Buddha

Sold him a sunset
for a blanket full of stars
and a sky full of white flowers
for another shot