later
Beset by the babblings of ten thousand hungry spirits
I lay waking through the night.
Ten thousand tongues of implication,
insinuation, and regret,
the dispossessed, the undecided
half-wed and set aside,
the invitations and temptations and scolds
that drift thick
on every way
and surface of my life.
Not now, I whisper and hurry on,
day-eyes fixed on finer goals.
Not now, later, later.
Here now
they've come to collect.
