A book or a coat on a seat

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A book or a coat on a seat
but how do you save an empty room
—the stuffed bear, tamed
trained—this crib
is already taken :low flying planes

and these walls by a cry
for later, by a blanket --the soft bear
so close to the window :a trap
rusted shut—every song
already knows your words

—the bear even now
listens for the dark mountainside
bending over your lips
—you have forgotten how to fall.

You look for an edge
but every chair has magazines on it
or some mail or a hat or the unpaid bills
or the dust that saves a place forever
ticking close to your ear
as if you are missing, are rocking a low stool
and your heart already asleep.