the steaming water licks     the shower liner    again
      merging mildew  and plastic   bleeding sunlight
through the window will only dry   a little and    the rest will
      continue to      grow    who will water the plants
    when I skip town      dehydration   the alcoholic's home
and sunlight won’t be what they lack      singeing chlorophyll  
a neglected Tabby     bury the fur in the ground
where the maggots digest rot     fill him up
close the holes     taxidermy erases the solitude that leads to this
       smudge the house facing east        seal the attic door
pick up the newspapers            plant the Foxgloves in March
collect dust bunnies and dishes     see no other visitors
    mail the postcard with geographical coordinates   burn the poems
       and         let the flames graze you if it is warmth you lack

Tonight,

I looked at the stars like I do every night,

and I cried.

because this time,

I remembered

that some of them are dead.

and I realised

just how envious I was,

that I was not as beautiful as a star,

even though,

I too,

was still there.

yet also

so

very

dead.

I dread the day
That I see you
Through someone else
Like if I'm waiting
In line at the grocery store
And the person in front
Of me brushes their hair
Out of their face
Just the way you used to