after long silence

Politeness fades,

a small anchovy gleam

leaving the upturned pot in the dish rack

after the moon has wandered out the window.

One of the late freedoms, there is the dark.

The leftover soup put away as well.

Distinctions matter.  Whether a goat's

quiet face should be called noble

or indifferent.  The difference between a right rigor and pride.

The untranslatable thought must be the most precise.

Yet words are not the end of thought, they are where it begins.