MARCEL PROUST'S Q AND A

Those eyes which question
and answer in the mirror
if I am a fanatic twin
or merely frantic
from a panic attack
of hypochondria
how germs in a camera
of my own imagination
reach in mimosa and anemones
of the sea beach at Combray
even in my childhood bath
fearful of the outside air
the death wish which won't leave
hearing an anonymous
French horn
and my own violin playing
the Franck sonata which lives on
searching for new appearances
characters, forms, expressions
in the snow storm
paler than the birch tree
outside grandmother's windows
invited by the warm sand echoes.