Conspiratorial We

Hammers and fingernails withheld

Even in the midst of frenzied days and envies

Unimpressed sun which moves behind mountains

To caution the edges of our eyes

Mouths which nothing can out-die

Under the disordered dusk, through mysterious windows

We meet and conspire, bathe our daydreams in gin

So much said already in the twilight

We are alive, but do not demand much of it

We don’t believe in anything but ghosts

We don’t question people badly dressed in mourning

Under the heavy heel, we are alive and weightless

Under the capsized boat we fly