The Bleak House

The toys I used to love,
The loves I have outgrown,
The hungry dogs of hopes,
Which have devoured
One another,
/
Voids, interspersed with holes,
Mountains of wind and smoke,
Oceans, painted on desert sands
By jinns and ghosts –
/
My memories;
/
At my house at the edge of the world,
With cracked windows and doors agape
I’ll look away as I lock away
Everything I have
Ever known;
/
I will call the bleak house my home,
Sit and sit on the steps outside,
Staring vacantly out at things
Without knowing their names
Or mine,
/
My memories
/
Gone

Stages of Grief

Was that truly the last that

I’d see of you?

Was your last smile

That smile that I forgot?

/

Was your last word that one

I can’t remember?

Was your last gift to me

That something that I lost?

/

Is this a joke, this box

In which they put you?

Is your heart

Teasing me? It doesn’t beat!

/

This has to be a dream,

With dreamers mourning,

Saying good-bye…

You never said good-bye to me!

/

Please, wake me up! I do not

Want to dream this!

All that I see here

Looks like empty shells and toys

/

You must come back – I live

To see you smiling,

You must because

I breathe to hear you voice

/

You won’t. I’ve seen the last of me

This morning:

Laughed my last laugh,

Said all I’ll ever have to say

/

I cannot go with you, it’s not

My time yet;

Good I don’t have to

Stay alive – all I can do is stay