Collected Poems of John Holmes
Holmes, John A., Jr.
Someone was here while we were gone.
All the rooms look the same.
We never lock up, nothing missing,
Nothing wrong I can give a name.
But the dust, you said, is different.
Floor remembers a weight that walked.
Doorways wonder. The wall stares.
Air, too, remembers who talked.
Someone who had been here before.
Someone who knows and doesn't care
Whether we took with us the one thing
He wants, or hid it here somewhere.
The clock face has changed.
Four when we went, now it says five
Or five past. We're home again,
It's still Thursday, we're alive.
We're home, I said, I'll build a fire.
It gets late earlier, I'm colder
Than I used to be, you said. Time
Said, Late. Yes. And an hour older.