In the Absence of Clocks

In the Absence of Clocks

5 In the Absence of Clocks Vilor, the baker’s son, sits on his stoop, pours swept flour from one hand to the other. A night of lightning has arrested the tower’s clockwork. Vilor waits to hear if it will toll again. The dog-woman sleeps on the postoffice steps with her harem, their long fur twists into her gypsy scarves. Vilor smokes. Knows each day is made of four distinct chambers. The dogs know nothing of time, they whimper and wait for passersby to come with coins. Vilor, the baker’s son, dusts his hands. Today, the village will be late for bread. He stands. Night-music. It is very early— the morning, a hollow space in his body. ...