Monday, November 25, 2024

Upon clearing out my late mother’s home

















I exist in that space between 

Holding it together 

And all out weeping

Like the formlessness 

Of liquid 

Filling in the cracks and crevices

Seeping

Seamlessly from one 

Moment to the next

Circling the drain 

In the synapses of my brain

Searching my heart

Before time tears it apart

And I acquiesce to the 

God of nothing 

Having served no greater

Good or purpose 

Than the dust that catches 

The light as it floats

Through the silence of your room

On a weekday morning

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