Pack it away with the toys and the books,
those days of dreaming.
The dark stain on the rug pushed under an old chair
that spews dust with every pat.
A scream from under the fridge,
milk running down the door and drying in a neat puddle.
A text from a friend saying ‘don’t worry about me’
an email for a sale on now.
Light a candle and fall asleep,
wait for another hand to snuff the flame,
a lover’s hand,
the candle burns to a nub and smoke drifts gently to the ceiling
a black mark.
Remember the handshake where he held your hand too tightly, for too long
And remember the dream where standing in your backyard,
your saw a mushroom cloud rising in the south
and you pray that it is far enough away that you are not killed
by the rushing fire.
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