After delicately finishing the cup
of coffee, (for fear of scalded tongue,) it’s time
to do the errands

for today: washing the ***** dishes
from last night; cleaning the mound of laundry:

the bloodstained shirts, ripped jeans, and *****
strewn hoodie. It was all from last night. I had these things

to do. Instead of the usual staring outside,
having my soul one with the wind. It was

white. I had forgotten about that shirt. The one
with the bloodstained. Like ketchup,

poured clumsily over at family dinner. Family?
Doesn’t even know that. After mixing the bleach

with the water. I wrote each of their names
on that languid surface, having it rippled a thousand
times. I smiled as I break reflections. There are

ghosts now surrounding the house. Why
should I play with things here? I am alone.

I do not have to worry about the kitchen
knives flying like jets, or the plates, breaking
into incoherent pieces like stained glass

fragments.

Today is a clear sky. Not a thunderstorm. Not
a cloud. Nothing but clear

sky.

And today, I learned how to silence
each dead voice trapped in my cranium.
Break them one by one like

Fragments.