into the screaming white light

that precise moment
when the clock is
torn in two

when the dogs
chew their way through
the room of bones
and escape into
the screaming white
light of day
 
free
only to be dragged
beneath the wheels of
passing trains and this old woman
in the corner
holds her
dead husband's picture
tight to her chest

turns slowly to dust
while songbirds
dissolve into blood
against every
window

and you notice that
she's not afraid
and you notice that
the flowers on
the mantel
have begun to burn


what you want to
know is why