In the Old House

They have all gone—all.  I roam

rooms that were once a home,

and with my ruined past

I stayed, alone at last

and—so it seems now—freed

of every human need.

Now I shall contemplate

what has no name, no date,

put the whole world in order,

and then . . . take in a boarder.

Richard Moore

From No More Bottom, Orchises Press,
© 1991.  Originally printed in The Lyric.
Reprinted by permission of the author.