Glare-cast black on brick
the birch in the wind last night
when I got back alone to the house
shuffled shadow cards
in the deck of death

And a powdery moth as I had once
fluttered helpless there
by the door where that signal
bulb you had left
in the troubling dark
of no comfort or use
was burning cold and false

But I being changed
and no longer sister
to that poor doomed
blindly bumping creature

by feel alone took from my purse
the cold steel key
an agent stranger once had given me
and let myself into the place