A Late Poem

You Look Outside

You look outside.
Already it is five o'clock.
The world is disappearing.
Across the city, yellow leaves are dropping
from the trees--
lamps going out slowly--
In the Diamond district,
store owners undress
the windows. They unclasp necklaces
from the headless mannequins.
You look outside.
Already it is evening.
On the table, the books lie open
to where you stopped reading
about the Magellanic clouds.
The sky is violet against the iron railing.
In the river, cars drift
upside down with their lights on.

~~Malena Morling