The Inquiry by Weldon Kees
Do you wear a web over your wasted worth?
I wear a web
You fear the keyhole’s splintered eye?
I fear the eye
Can you hear the worthless morning’s mirth?
I hear it
The broken braying from whitening skies?
Yes I hear it yes
To spend the end and feed the fire
is day’s insistence, night’s demand:
to pay the unrequested fare
and wave the wavering wand.
The streets are full of broken glass,
sparkling in this frenzied noon.
With naked feet and bandaged eyes
you’ll walk them —not just now, but soon.