School Night

Through the cafeteria window
of the Winter Hill Community School
the countertops gleam underneath
a few fluorescent bulbs someone forgot.
Stools sit neatly atop the tables.
Knives sleep above the long sinks
and refrigerators keep things dead inside.
Contrary to common knowledge
night is the best time for watching.
All the people who shape this world are gone
so objects have a life
beyond the acts they might engender.
Things are what they are,
not what they’re meant to be. Nothing
can wake them from this side of the glass.
Like the streets and the darkened houses
this room waits for the day’s inhabitants.
Even the cold remains still
without people to touch it.