My Moral State

You may be right about my moral state.
There were some things I claimed that can’t be mine,
Some precious metals that had lost their shine,
Balloons I never knew how to inflate.
The embers there, still sizzling in the grate,
Have never been huge flames. That was the wine,
The big talk. No one ever saw a sign
Above my bedposts, when the hour grew late.

The hour is early now. I’ve seen you weep,
So my dark, heedless work is done, I’m through
This passage into morning. Here’s the dew,
Wetting my socks — even my shoes are cheap.
There are some promises I didn’t keep,
Some things I should never have said to you.