empty

I would go empty
into my father’s house

make my house empty
of all paraphanalia

clear books from the shelves
in the top-most room
where we ate the apple
core and all

I had a photograph on the wall
composed of sunlight
re-arranged

now there is nothing there anymore
but dust and cobwebs
all has changed

if I still drank
I’d drink your health
who said this world we make ourselves

then shamble up
to an unmade bed

empty

ready

sunlight on an empty vessel
in the deserted house along the shore

only when I am like that empty vessel
will I be ready
for my guest to call

when the wind and the sea and all the landscape
know me and recognise me
as one belonging

then – only then
will I be ready

for the coming