Sunday, September 24, 2006


I might have become longer
in your absence. A degree of gravity
might have inhibited the growth
of mistakes while you were away.
A shortage of light made my skin
pale and moist. Worms have
settled in the garden
where once stood sunflowers
and peas. The tools in the tin
shed are stained with mink
blood and foul oily dirt.
The slaughter of fireflies
have left the padlocks
with a faint electric glow.
Dried and brittle bread
sits curled on the card table.
The chairs are dusty and rusted.
All the food in the dead fridge
is black or green from mold.
The litter box is full of dead flies.
My arms are asleep
so I can't feel my hands
writing this down.
I scratch my nose and it feels
like your hand.


Blogger frankcolby said...

Very good! Dad loves it.

9:57 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Thanks for this one, Toad. Karen Medlin here. I've been searching for something good to think about on-line, and this was it this time. Good. Now I can go to bed now. Kiss the Mrs. for me. ;~)

3:34 AM  

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