Friday Time Divided Poem by Agnes Clark

There were the sharp black peaks upon white walls,
And plunging valleys, groanings on the floor,
Exciting lengths of tape, long-distance calls,
Dreams, fears, despair and change. That was BEFORE.
There were high windows, small beneath the sky,
Deep was the shasm with its gray built wall.
Dots parabolic hypnotized the eye
Fearful to see the red-stained, shattering fall.

AFTER crept slowly in; the peaks grew soft,
Less varied, much eroded by long laws.
Short grew the line from bottom to aloft.
The days hummed steadily; time did not pause.
One constant held its place; The new safe god
Inspired the sacrifice of sudden leap;
But low-roofed openings and gentle sod
Prevented bloody entrance to The Sleep.

We found a loop-hole, you and I, a space
Enough to squeeze through with our little spade.
Past matted vines we watch the human race
Run on the clear straight road that has no grade,
See dots accelerate and stay the same...
We dig out roots and eat the flower seeds,
And sing old lays, and sometimes play a game
Of chess, with pebbles and my broken beads.