a quiet house

I sit at my desk
the gentle whirl of fans
and in the distance
a dog barks

the mood is chocolate
bittersweet
and I wonder
if in ten years

when all is done
when all is said
what I remember
the most

is the sitting
the fans
and the distant sound
of a dog barking

hell is not fire
not brimstone
it is vacant eyes
and lips without care

pain not in yell
or anger
but rather
in a quite house

of covers pulled
over the head
and dogs that lie
knowing

lie as sandbags
to back and stomach
knowing
all is not right

they hear what
I hear
and on other days
at other times

return they would
the bark
that comes
from a distance

but not today
today they lie
back to stomach
quiet as the house

quiet as the future