Still, everything is dead. Doesn’t everybody see
how the day skulls its dying? The sound of rain peeling
back the sidewalk. I skulk about everything.
My dead dog. The dead deer flashed open on the highway.
A car drips in its passing: every single day every time I pray I’ll be missing you
Sometimes a tree broken for my misery. Deserted.
A fly hurls itself against my window, each
thump thump thump a heart unraveling.
Nothing …
I am selfish. The birds outside molt for me. The flowers study new skin.
In the mirror, my mouth lurks behind the dead mouth.
Every mouth the same strand. I give the room its thunder.
The fly drops dead.