Less and Less

But it could be some of us
Are in fact kin to the moon,
Kin in words, if not in need.

Your fault’s not you talk too much,
In the rooms and on the stair.
Your fault’s just that you need us

To be the one who speaks there,
To be the ghost and bones both,
The light that moves on your floors.

If you want to get a god
Who won’t talk, we’d like to drop
A hint—you’re fine, on your own.

It’s too much us and the moon.
Sit in the light you like best
And think of us less and less.