Gone Missing

Dishes piled in the sink form the kitchen landscape While laundry mountains dominate the bedroom's horizon. Books for the last month's resarch project lay Scattered in random islands across the livingroom floor. If only there had been time to clean the house Before the knock rang out clear and sharp on the front door. Opening it, a woman with yesterday's paper Shakes it, sobbing, in his face. He took it without question and said goodbye. She dissapeared down the tenament hall. He unfolded the newspaper and read the headline: 'Three children, mother, found dead in Queen's pawn shop'. The dishes no longer matter, The laundry is insignificant, And though the books are irritating, They are no longer in the way of life- -because life has stopped. His hands shake as he reads on, unwilling to believe- The paper, however, does not lie. A call from the police confirms his worst fears, So shuddering he must journey to the city morgue To give his last confirmation that he was the woman's elusive husband. And their children- -their three children- -who never left their mother's side And were lying by it still. After his trip to hell, the dark shrouded father Stepped into the street, went home, and dissapeared- Vanishing into oblivion alnog with the memory of his wife and three sons.