Evening

 

Evening light dozed on

his unwashed dishes;

years' old dust collected behind

hanging china plates;

the Sacred Heart looked on,

as ever,

smoked and sagging.

 

His face, at the table,

jerked unaccountably;

sometimes he choked on his tongue.

The mist of his young face

had cleared completely;

his smile was in a biscuit box

with his wedding photographs, letters

and the pieces of a broken pocket watch.