let there be no moans in this vocabulary
with no words to compensate
 
let all thrusts of unhappiness go too
 
(the days have been somber already
we've had pain's dialects
stuck to our tongues)
 
better simply be quiet
and not move our mouths
 
better a glass of milk be no more than a glass
heaps of silence
in the reaching out of hands
 
let air stay stiff and pleated
as we breathe through our noses
 
remembering how we used to race boats
heave water while grunting hard
 
(those sounds were proof we were living
we carried noises
high up in our throats
 
now our wives have pearls
but we've almost billowed over
arms locked with tourniquets of mesh)
 
let us stay attentive to our green gowns
to the lunges
of the nursing staff
 
who fasten and unfasten clothing
tell us stories
with the sad endings removed
 
mornings let their eyes
look us over blackly
asking when we will lift our legs
 
let no one answer let
the old night dogs leave us
let the young ones the pretty ones stay