A world's disappearing. Little street, You were too narrow, Too much in the shade already. You had only one dog, One lone child. You hid your biggest mirror, Your undressed lovers. Someone carted them off In an open truck. They were still naked, travelling On their sofa Over a darkening plain, Some unknown Kansas or Nebraska With a storm brewing. The woman opening a red umbrella In the truck. The boy And the dog running after them, As if after a rooster With its head chopped off.
Copyright © 1993 by Charles Simic. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.