Because I could stop for Life—
She kindly stopped with me—
The carriage held not just ourselves
but all mortality.

We promptly drove; we knew of haste—
I didn't put away
my labour nor my leisure too
for Her civility.

We passed an industry where workers worked—
At midnight— in the room—
We passed the fields of gazing grain—
We passed a megamall—

Or rather— they passed us—
The cloud unhid a paintful ray—
For certain cotton made my clothes,
my plastics only pay—

We paused before a house that seemed
a miracle in the air—
Its use was scarcely visible:
A trick of tear and wear—

Since then— 'tis days and yet
feels longer than the aeon
we first surmised the turning sky
were toward Temporary.

I shall stay home tonight
For head is louder than the sphere's noises
Throbbing with words... I can be less familiar
The moderns, it said, are swallowing us whole
But who are us? Who spoke?
Emily... whispered to me
Through this loneliness of poetry
I am not a modern, she said, we are ancient
But why I am her patient? To her, who told?
Axis of modernity... that's where she is
Through this, we made love to each
So I will settle, I said, to your handsome endowma
Questions, questions... no more conundra
Through and through, I must deify you