Windows lit like unattended altars Curtains breathe in the central heat Television light flickers blue devotion No one moves in the street Balconies hold their quiet vigil Plastic chairs in rigid rows Every door is closed with patience Every hallway knows Nobody’s coming Nobody’s coming Nobody’s coming tonight Laundry turns behind the concrete Circular and without sound Letters gathering behind the thresholds Face down on the ground The elevator hums its mantra Between the fifth and fourth A light burns in the stairwell landing But it doesn’t call anyone forth Nobody’s coming Nobody’s coming Nobody’s coming The intercom repeats its static tone Unanswered, then it stops A shadow crosses the courtyard But never reaches the steps Nobody’s coming Nobody’s coming Nobody’s coming tonight
