THE LAST INHABITANTS
this is where the lamp hangs
cockroaches inside the phone
cushions hide half-chewed gum
a coat provides short shift
hang-dog days of winter
cat curled in patch of light
reasonable to assume disguise
behind curtains trimmed to fit
lone bishop parades on rock
half the house cut away
flies heaped on windowsills
chairs warped by fog and rain
no way through locked gates
a gallop of long-horned ghosts
blows through tall grass
purple vetch and bronze sorrel
