Waiting

there are no barbarians, any more
—cavafy

saturday night and
the buffalos are coming

like some strange scene
in a movie by cavafy, they
are coming to eat off civil
ised plates and curl their tongues
round silver spoons

the buffalos are coming
and will chew the seams
of our velvet curtains then
begin to eat us too

then swing from chandeliers
hung like stars in the deep
blue ceiling

then touch the wood that
touched the shoulders that
rubbed the shoulders of
important people who ate here
once

the buffalos are coming
as buffalos must, to graze
in pastures not fitting
their ugly teeth and
sitting awkwardly in antique
chairs that often break
then
laugh
then try another

the buffalos are coming, they
really are coming, because
cavafy was wrong, and

cavafy told lies