The weather breaks, an expected unsettledness
Entering its consistency, and the rain is urgent;
Represented in a material sense, my effects are gathered,
All signs that this room once conceded to an ownership,
Now ordered, so that they might be understood.
The bareness of its surfaces grows striking,
Reclaiming themselves from scattered objects,
Their soft imprints lifted, and the space assumes
Its automatic self, which is ultimately forgetful;
Separated from it, we consider what has been left behind:
From the dimensions of the same bed, with a sense
Of something minutely displaced, the detail is glimpsed as if
Through glass or water, proving the language correct
Which translates nostalgia as pain, in the continuity of things,
It began, and ends here, with rain.