Ballad for Ashes

Nobody lives!
cried the thin man
high on the sunny stone steps
of my house
dreaming
he lied
I saw him come
flying
down to the ground
with a thud.

I touched his bruised face
with my fingers
in the low sun.

A man crept up
to a golden cup
to beg for a drink
the water was cold
but the edges of gold
slit his lips like a sieve.