15 MARCH 1963, Page 21

The Skein

from the Chinese Moonlight through my gauze curtains Turns them to nets for snaring wild birds, Turns them into woven traps, into shrouds. The old, restless grief keeps me awake. I wander around, holding a scarf or shawl; In the muffled moonlight I wander around Folding it carefully, shaking it out again. Everyone says my lover is happy.

I wish they said he was coming back to me. I hesitate here, my scarf like a skein of yarn Binding my two hands loosely that would reach for paper and pen.

So I memorise these lines, Dew on the scarf, dappling my nightdress also. 0 love long gone, it is raining in our room! So I memorise these lines without salutation, without close. CAROLYN KIZER