Multiplying the moon.(Poem)

 
MULTIPLYING THE MOON 
 
   No opening in the house is shut 
   but the heat's a cage I have to bear. 
   By the back door where I burnt 
   my soles this afternoon I long for air 
 
   cool as a fish's belly to creep out 
   of Pymmes Brook up the park slope 
   to my fence, press the milky smell 
   of midnight blades to my face. Not 
 
   a ruffle, not even the owl 
   calling like an obsessive ghost 
   from clots of trees. Upstairs the curtains 
   are undrawn and I watch my self in a mist 
 
   of cotton nightdress that hides scars, 
   uneven troughs, veins that have discoloured 
   skin with spidery purple tributaries. 
   And there are my other selves, stars 
 
   for eyes, leaning towards the windows: 
   the one with drive who ...