Emptiness seeps through the air, it is seeping
Into our clothes. Where it blows from nobody
Knows, yet the dangling tie clinches
The neck, the shoulders chafe. It could come,
We knew, the Unthinkable, but this cannot be
The one we saw. Shelters abound:
Nobody tries the doors. Everyone
Seems to be standing-listening as though
Expecting shrieks of a rain from a possible
Further sky.
Is it still too soon
To wonder what if the fume could burn
Through all this skin? The light widens.
Some have begun to tear their clothes
Without waiting to ask. To learn, we were told,
Is to wait and ask — nothing was said of a presence.