at the end of time

At the End of Time.

When the clock struck nine a Swiss cuckoo
came out, flew onto the roof where it laid
eggs in a sparrow’s nest, under the tiles.
It came back with all the haste of a delayed
rocket, broke the window collided brutally
with the clock that fell off the wall and into
the soup. Digits floated around in infinite
variation, but when the soup had settled it
was midnight I could see 2007, ate the two
zeroes but, it didn’t make much difference,
fireworks soared in the sky scared dogs and
shell shocked war veterans who didn’t get
sympathy from those who had never heard
the deadly whine of hot iron searing air