“The last time”
It seems you’ve gone. Your last word
still faintly clinking in my chamber:
the brittlest shimmer lingered
some lovely hours. Gone, then, as before.
Long have I known the sharp increment
of your faltering redoubt.
Long now, unbidden, have I sensed
you seeking my window out,
and often hear unspoken
some muted sinking phrase;
and often the familiar knocking
at the door. Gone, same as always.
Berlin (Charlottenburg district)
44 Mommsen St.