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HAVING HAD SUPPER

I hear a ring at the door and go to open it,
but there’s nobody.
I think of those whom I love and who won’t return.
I don’t close the door but maintain my welcome.
With my hand on the door-frame, I wait.
Life goes on settling itself in pain
as houses do on their foundations.
And I know for whom I linger leaving a sheaf
of hospitable light in the empty street.

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