The wall is
a ***** blue

like a sky turned solid
and trapped in a room.

It is greasy
with time

and human beings
who have shed their skin

voices turned to dust.

There is a paler blue
circle of wall

that was once where
a clock had sat

doling out time
begrudgingly.

I stare at it.

It's circle of blue
wants to tell the time

but finds
it can not.

A cockroach crawls across it
moving from what would have been

10 to 9 to
half past.

The house has lost
its head.

A bird flies through it.

Bede's bird.

Time it seems
has rotted here.

The pale blue circle
no longer the clock

it was.

I know it is
time to go.

I turn on my
heel.