They say the night watchman
is so good he can hear
the grass growing and when he
puts his ear to the ground
it’s all the sounds pleasurable
to you, a boy and girl
coupling at dawn while your
bed lies empty, the grain
elevators lifting winter wheat
already sprouting into the air,
sound of hot water rising
in a dark room as you cup it
waiting for the movies to start,
sound of sodium lamps across
asphalt like the wingbeats
of a bird held in your hand.
