fetching the liquers
to appear ordinary–
Swann’s voice

double tinkle
heralds Swann’s late visit–
no kiss tonight

too short a kiss
was Mamma’s painful goodnight–
that look!

in cowardice
crying in the attic–
orris-root scent

scolding grandfather’s
forbidden taste of brandy,
she smiled

after dinner
grandmother walks in the rain
on too-straight paths

mystery, beauty
intrude on well-fit habits–
my doorknob

out of the forest
Golo rode for Geneviève–
shone on the wall

recalling
Balbec, Paris, and the rest–
lying awake

little room
high ceiling getting lower–
clock ticks