overture
peculiar
how careful
we are
to leave things behind us
when we go//
notes, pictures,
memories-

peculiar
what effort it takes to generate epitaphs
to replace us in our absence
when it is so easy
to accidentally
leave things behind.


act i:::the intrusion
the warped grid of the screen by your pillow
ripped and scraggling at the corners,
silent,
careful,
small foxholes puckering open
troughs of white windowsill
where his violent fingers
disturbed the still blanket of dust.

the counterpane slightly ruffled,
barely noticeable by itself,
like a sleeping bird
coccooned inside her own wing.

act ii:::the violation
there are holes.
things are missing.
every day, a new cubbyhole is introduced,
a handful of empty
where something used to live.

i can imagine
his frantic breath,
heart beating like a small animal's,
tiny beads of sweat,
hairs, skin cells
these things have evaporated
as toxins
into your air.
they are slowly settling now,
collecting in the cracks between tiles,
on windowsills,
the kitchen table.

act iii:::the aftermath
there is only a certain amount
of rationalization that can be done
before giving in
to the dark.

these are things
left in the wake of your intruder
not notes,
photographs,
but your recurring stomachaches
fear of footsteps,
the door ajar,
creaking slightly in the wind,
as helpless and empty as a paper bag.

solemn;;
light fixture swinging slowly inside,
violated,
a ruptured seal.

act iv:::the resolution
i have begun, also
to chant softly at night:
what if you'd been home
what if you'd been home
what if you'd been home

curtain

08/19/2005

Posted on 08/20/2005
Copyright © 2024 Brynn Dizack