We are waiting, selfishly, For time to come and muffle us; Our lips, our eyes, we are the dark, Listening for the sound of earth To crumble us, to fill our mouths. Everything is quiet. We take a seat In case of fire. It licks our graped old thighs, But we like it, we so do like it, When darkness does its knocking. A huge long sound that shakes the leaves Of trees outside- we are their basket Because they fall, and we so do like to catch them; As birds defy their father's snoring, away from Tables as they roost. Clucking tongues On yellow beaks. They are the crows, the gawping Birds. They see us through our petty blinds. You cannot breathe without us Darling loves, but our time has come to Sleep a little. Don't get too fat, or you might burst. A Jack O' Box of black and red. On our roof, all over us– that We might enjoy, when we're asleep, two old sleeping fowls like Us. Until then, hush, we need our rest. The sky above is inches thick: When we are gone. When we are are .