Even as you forget me more, so little
else crowds in. As you
forget, oh, everything, item
by tidbit, I can’t begin to recall what I
did either with my own dead. How
to not-catch never a glimpse at the no window?
Welcome myself to the cellar.
Lush cobwebs shimmering in festivity
will do for a mind and the occasional
furnace huff will do for the mind’s pride.
Virtuous old tools & blunt eccentric
might-come-in-handys nuzzle my touch at first
but not after the time — once too many — my manners
omit to compliment the housekeeping the small
meticulous vermin do. Thereafter, slights
& shrugs now of negligence, & you
— who were dear to me, who settled my fingers
in fine dust — flick irritably away.about the author