A Wall of Substance

Look out the window and see
Time showing in the curves
And walls of what we have made—
Buildings and streets, whole parts
Of the city are a fading alphabet
Even to the oldest people
You might speak to

Some lives have been so hard
We could build a wall of substance
Right from the living cells—
But mere brick—
How much is still a mirror
To us and what we talk about

Look into the closed window
At your face
Or over the roof, out over
The sagging rooms to reckon time
Start the count afresh
As if this were the place
Where we wanted to be