this whole house smells like pie
or should i say pies
and what does that mean
that my only connections
will be absent and myself
alone
shades drawn and space blaring
my battalion against common fear
that silence means emptiness
that curious jeer means insult
that sweet interrogation means
we will never be apart

there is no such spare part
which could bring my lid
into a snug placement
it will always shake and rattle

there is no sized slice of this
that could satisfy
the space between here
and yesterday
and tomorrow

but how delightful and sweet though!
soft and creamy in its presence
y-h i beg
save me a slice