The Last Summer – Neda Vanovac

I didn’t know what it meant, that summer                            when the bruised
clouds shivered with rain but wouldn’t let it fall                                 when the
wind howled around the house, groaning in doorways, and I kept turning
to see who was there                    
                                          I didn’t know, when the water stopped
running,    and    cobwebs    fluttered    in    the   corners   of   every   room,            
when the milk curdled and the meat started to rot
                                                                                      what was coming
People stopped knocking, and I didn’t realise                             they stopped
calling                                                        I didn’t notice, for I was busy counting 
when the rivers broke their banks and spilled into the city               I didn’t
hear that sirens no longer wailed
the streets grew silent, scavenger rustlings the only sound
                                                  so I hummed music of bygone days as I counted
as the summer snow fell
I paid no attention, for I was busy                                 counting, counting my
crumbling wealth with bare bone fingers, and I could not stop, would not
stop,   because  there  was  nothing left  to stop for,  and I was  richer  than     
a king