I was exhausted

I was exhausted, but I couldn't sleep.

God knows when he slept – if he did.

But on both sides the intervales grew broader;

I wondered if I ought to give notice and leave.

I dragged my dressing gown up to my throat.

Even this limited amount of success

went to my head,

because he remembered someone had told him

that tomcats hated kittens and liked to eat them.

Letters, indeed, had been flying across the Atlantic.

The paving here was of small, rough-edged stones.

Under the guise of horseplay,

the box, he explained, contained bear's grease,

because I've never been at a loss

for an excuse

or a way out.