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From the top of the flight Of the wide, white stairs Through the rest of my life Do you wait for me there? There's a bell in my ears There's a wide white roar Drop a bell down the stairs Hear it fall forevermore Drop a bell off of the dock Blot it out in the sea Drowning mute as a rock; Sounding mutiny There's a light in the wings Hits this system of strings From the side while they swing; See the wires, the wires, the wires And the articulation In our elbows and knees Makes us buckle as we couple in endless increase As the audience admires And the little white dove Made with love, made with love: Made with glue, and a glove, and some pliers Swings a low sickle arc From its perch in the dark Settle down Settle down my desire And the moment I slept I was swept up in a terrible tremor Though no longer bereft, how I shook and I couldn't remember Then the furthermost shake drove a murdering stake in And cleft me right down through my center And I shouldn't say so, but I know that it was then, or never Push me back into a tree Bind my buttons with salt Fill my long ears with bees Praying: please, please, please, Love, you ought not! No you ought not! Then the system of strings tugs on the tip of my wings (cut from cardboard and old magazines) Makes me warble and rise like a sparrow And in the place where I stood, there is a circle of wood A cord or two, which you chop and you stack in your barrow It is terribly good to carry water and chop wood Streaked with soot, heavy booted and wild-eyed; As I crash through the rafters And the ropes and pulleys trail after And the holiest belfry burns sky-high Then the slow lip of fire moves across the prairie with precision While, somewhere, with your pliers and glue you make your first incision And in a moment of almost-unbearable vision Doubled over with the hunger of lions 'Hold me close', cooed the dove Who was stuffed, now, with sawdust and diamonds I wanted to say: why the long face? Sparrow, perch and play songs of long face Burro, buck and bray songs of long face! Sing: I will swallow your sadness and eat your cold clay Just to lift your long face And though it may be madness, I will take to the grave Your precious longface And though our bones they may break, and our souls separate - why the long face? And though our bodies recoil from the grip of the soil - why the long face? In the trough of the waves Which are pawing like dogs Pitch we, pale-faced and grave, As I write in my log Then I hear a noise from the hull Seven days out to sea And it is the damnable bell! And it tolls - well, I believe, that it tolls - for me! It tolls for me! Though my wrists and my waist seemed so easy to break Still, my dear, I would have walked you to the very edge of the water And they will recognise all the lines of your face In the face of the daughter of the daughter of my daughter Darling, we will be fine, but what was yours and mine Appears to be a sandcastle that the gibbering wave takes But if it's all just the same, then will you say my name: Say my name in the morning, so I know when the wave breaks? I wasn't born of a whistle or milked from a thistle at twilight No, I was all horns and thorns, sprung out fully formed, knock-kneed and upright So: enough of this terror We deserve to know light And grow evermore lighter and lighter You would have seen me through But I could not undo that desire Oh-oh, oh-oh-oh desire Oh-oh, oh-oh-oh desire Oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh desire From the top of the flight Of the wide, white stairs Through the rest of my life Do you wait for me there

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