when all the glass has been smashed in, the invitations go out -
edifying hosts, no bar -
the front door may be missing, but climb through the windows anyway
the lights will not come on, so
feel your way along the soggy floors, the walls still standing
through the south facing windows, the rising moon beams into large empty rooms
negative spaces between absent furniture
when maximum capacity is reached, cast your phobic angst from the glassless openings
the cold night air is neither rational nor engaging
wait for water/drink, water/rain, water/blast
if none is forthcoming, turn inward again, away from the window arrangement to the damp warmth of a hundred bodies
avoiding all wet corners
will the morning light bring a forced surrender, flapping from a penetrating edict of sorts
interlocation is designed to draw out all those who withstood and still standing
soon they will surround the tense will compounded and block the joyless gape of a sentenced building
the political abstract to be waylaid by a loud compendium of passion
but such wholesome infestation is always assailable
beware the dangling buckets
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