When he left, the room
Grew longer in the twilight,
The bookshelves slanted
Like the shadows' slant,
The twitch of the leaves
Patched brightly on the walls,
And a warm breeze
Whispered the lucent remains
Of a sea change into my ear.
Sidereal waves were rising,
The night's flood sucked at my heart,
As if I were a conch shell,
Spit up by the tides, abandoned
To the whims of childish ears.