Beckett said:
It seems to me
All language
Is an excess
In language.
I often think of this
When we fight,
Having long since
Stopped listening to the shouts
And the pleading;
Both yours and mine.
And even when I see you smash
A glass against the wall
And your mouth is forming
What must be treacherous words,
I think,
When did she
Possibly
Learn so much
About Beckett?
And then the house gets quiet.
So quiet
You would think
A child had died.
