what's o'clock
111
To where the hole's edge snapped it swiftly off,
Striking him blind to the accustomed dusk.
Now Neron had a friend he never met,
A verger who winked at his being there
In the sky-loft where no one ever came,
And left him scraps of broken meat and bread
Upon a step of the third stairway down.
The light was Neron's clock; it lit a crack
Jagged and strange, not like another crack,
So Neron knew the time. With many a curse
And groan he twitched his shaking bones upright
And tottered down the stair to get his meat,
For he must eat to live and dream his dreams.
He hated it, the aching journey down
And up again, he hated even his bones
Whose insolence in so demanding food
Sent him to get it whatever cost
To old, unable feet and quaking knees;
He loathed the verger's charitable dole,
Striking him blind to the accustomed dusk.
Now Neron had a friend he never met,
A verger who winked at his being there
In the sky-loft where no one ever came,
And left him scraps of broken meat and bread
Upon a step of the third stairway down.
The light was Neron's clock; it lit a crack
Jagged and strange, not like another crack,
So Neron knew the time. With many a curse
And groan he twitched his shaking bones upright
And tottered down the stair to get his meat,
For he must eat to live and dream his dreams.
He hated it, the aching journey down
And up again, he hated even his bones
Whose insolence in so demanding food
Sent him to get it whatever cost
To old, unable feet and quaking knees;
He loathed the verger's charitable dole,
