Unemployment (3)

Out of cash, out of well-fitting trousers,

Out of soap and apples,

Out of pencils, out of my keeper’s

Reach.

I wish to set myself afire

But may not. This morning

(Last night) in the common room

I watched the administration

Of oxygen to one who had none

And I would not sit down, demanding

To do so.

Later I happened on a man

At the piano, and though I have happened five or six times

On men at the piano,

None moved his hand like this

Within the keys.

I sat beside him, looking for a sound

A chest sound. Not listening; I don’t listen

Anymore. I make music

But I don’t listen.