Walked by a young mother
Beautiful in her noontime filter

I walked by a young sister
Feeling kinship with the city

Was an older sister
In line with a canteen in my hand

Day whimpered and rested under a fat shade
Lovers who wouldn’t think the same thing

About each other if asked on a television game show
Nevertheless showed affection

Even as I passed
The world was pocketing their light

Can’t believe in the efficiency of fire
When it turns its sooty face

Toward your enemy
The great interminable feeling of hours

I hadn’t noticed
Given notice

Work was called, though
Once before. Sometime

Sometime there was work to be done
And I was away from it

At the end of a funeral procession