The hands on the clock
pushed forward unwillingly
and struck seven with a minor chord
an hour past dinner time
swept into the house; one unwanted yet tolerated guest
The supper bell chimed
once
twice
three times and still nobody came

Laughing with amusement
bitterness too
that the table should be forgotten
the oven cold
the kitchen lights off
the kettle silent

A brother is building
silver airplanes in an attic, welding the pieces together
with glue that reeks of the future

A sister is in a blue sky room sticking glow
in the dark stars on the ceiling

A father is meeting himself
for coffee in some quaint diner
where meat loaf is a delicacy

A mother’s on a first class flight to Paris
hoping she can remember her high school French

But the family is nowhere
to
be
found