One O'Clock Whistle

In the distance, sirens
Jump at this dead hour
Wild-eyed,
I am too much in the sun
Willed beyond my power

A little more than kin, straw sins

In the rainy season
Closed despite the sun
A clarion to call me home
My fingers going numb

Every Monday, run away

I�ll stand in these four corners
Though hell itself should gape
I'll cross it, though it blast me
And walk right through the gate