you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you
—Billy Collins, “Japan”
There are days I have been cast
(down) in bronze.
Gloom pervades me like patina.
I am the bells of Mary-le-Bow, long (fallen) silent,
mute, tongueless, hollowed out.
The claws of my dead dog clatter on the floor.
Even when I turn into the sunlight,
my shadow stretches in front of me,
and I can only step into the darkness.