When the women go to the island
to prepare for the olives,
the pulp of the house is taken out.
Grandfather and the boys are left
to their own devices, tinkering
in the laundry room
and staring into the pale cool
of the refridgerator.
None of the usual rooms
are curved, a catching spot.
The chairs are empty and the clock
ticks in the hallway. The streets are
suddenly filled with strangers
and the market does not sell
the usual things.
When the women return,
everyone casually smokes cigarettes
and drinks coffee in the kitchen,
laughing as if the last week had
been a welcome pause.
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