I
Am Living in a Lonely House
1
These close quarters kill.
These crooked chairs can’t
forget the shape you made.
The windows reflect your
still darkening body &
you hover like a gray ghost.
I don’t want to wait
anymore.
I gorge myself on this
indigo.
This stupid glitch.
These maudlin moods;
cheap mockeries of the year.
What is gross. Red-scarred.
Sacred.
2
I am moving to a lonely house:
one without flowers on the
mantel.
I found your shirt wedged in
the bottom of a drawer.
A letter written in red ink;
a silver pendant; one earring: a poem.
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