It was nothing O’clock,

The rain fell up the window pane

Outside an old and aromatic kitchen

The only noise, the slumping of dogs,

In creaking baskets.

 

This was a house

Where Sunday

Dragged its feet,

As if going to school.

​

Only the bereaved

Were aware of the time.

Here the world might

Come to an end

And no one

Would even notice.