people used to be at home officially,
provide invitations, wait for teas,
the convenient cake.
in another world, i am at home,
no need for refreshment. then.
yet the friends shall come, needing no formal,
notifications or redemptions.
it will be a pleasant day, as the hills
go down, many tremblous things
while all the while you stay quiet,
boxed, fading into your own silence.
i left the note by the clock, the calling card.
witness came again,
reminding the words are there,
black and white, the finger writ,
he said, in the beginning it was so.
then having spake moved on, with
language unbeknown. how did
they let it happen, the flood, how
did the house surrender. a holy
place. a place of conversation, stuff
of the age, no empire building here.
there was scrambled egg, and a cabinet