The Sensual World Re-emerges by Eleanor Lerman

What you think is that you might
be sick. I think that I might be, too
with something that is a big disease:
estrangement, nostalgia, a condition
that waxes and wanes while you
consider what it all means. While you
wash your hair. While you make
the bed and make it again and again

Well, we have to face it: gone
are the days of the great blondes
in winter kitchens making soup,
of living in the country, of casting
spells. Of pulling roots and flowers
from the ground in the belief that only
loving hands can make the harvest

in which the world will finally change
It will not change. It is not the natural way
"The world" does not get better or worse,
it simply slides away. Blinks, forgets,
ignores all our hard work (think of the hours
in the library, studying magic) and then

enters a new phase. It feels
no responsibility to warn us that
all we can do is unburden ourselves
of the superfluous, lay down in the
fabric of everyday life and wait

For what? Picture the
unimaginable: being stalked
by a ghost with a death ray,
being saved by a Vulcan kiss

Picture tomorrow. Step out
of it. Now you are cured