The old, old houses were leaning
at crazy angles to the road.
Here, no women were weaning.
of young children here.
Within these walls, all is dead
and gone. Only tall weeds peer
through ruins, a rat lifts his head
from his busy work, blinks,
scampers, returns whence
he came. At night a bat winks
his hunter’s eyes and no fence
guards here, where the garbage stinks.