Sunday Morning

Puddles on cobblestones
Had a film of spent
rainbows,
clouds rested on rooftops
and tear streaked windows misted;
dejected curs  
sniffed the air as a damp army
of washing hung limply on balconies.
Church bells peeled  
the faithful prepared for mass,
unseen and
under arches the tormented
waited for the bar
to open and release them
from the agony of
their lonely inferno.