The window’s complaint, the evening’s lament,
escaping light steals into streets,
a peal of scales hangs outside.
There is an absence in the air, a pall,
of forbearance, forgiveness, of unrepentance.
The ghost of unforgiveness haunts this place
like bells which fail to chime in towers and trees
like teeth which fail to click in place in wheels and
The voice says speak and I will speak
But I will not sing to a mournless music.
The road roars and moans and thunders
darkness wails and shrieks and leaks into
the soul. A cuckoo speaks
The trees are tossed like clothes in a machine
the night sky flashes, clear not thunder
a stone has fallen in the street
a rose a flower smells defeat
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