Friends came for dinner, but nothing made
her change her tone. A steady strained B minor.
The dogs laid their drooling maws on her thigh.
First placid snow, then rain, like silent glistening strings
Of a harp. When did rain become opaque?
Gentle no longer recognized rain. Since when
did it pour without mercy, did it not droppeth
upon the place beneath?
3am, she stared at the street, empty with its
parked cars, writhing trees, sordid light.
It was not twice blessed.