Be careful not to crush <br />This scalloped tenement: <br />Who knows what secrets <br />Winter has failed to find <br />Within its paper walls? <br /> <br />It is the universe <br />Looking entirely inwards, <br />A hanging lantern <br />Whose black light wriggles <br />Through innumerable chambers <br /> <br />Where hopes still sleep <br />In her furry pews, <br />The chewed dormitory <br />Of a forgotten tribe <br />That layered its wooden pearl. <br /> <br />It is a basket of memories, <br />A museum of dead work, <br />The spat Babel of summer <br />With a marvellous language <br />Of common endeavour. <br /> <br />Note: it is the fruit <br />Returning to the tree, <br />The world becoming a clock <br />For sleep, a matrix of pure <br />Energy, a book of many lives.<br /><br />John Fuller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wasp-nest/
