In the Appropriate Moment

In the appropriate moment, like a clock Striking the local hour's meridian, She in her hate for hours concluded in, And never a word to tell where she had been.

Just as my hand, a clockwork, rose to strike, She launched to the telephone and was not there. Her voice had crumpled her along the wire; There was only a voiceless body in her chair.

But when my body wired itself to talk, And the first syllable engaged my throat, She was paraded to be marching out. There was no time for us to talk about.

In the appropriate moment, like a door, I closed that room. The clock stood struck and dumb. She was already someone else's home. And never a word to tell why she had come.