It was yesterday
one last look
the rooms are bare
upstairs, downstairs
empty
I couldn’t remember
where things used to be
what we said in all the shouting
then or the day before;
it’s easiest to remember
places as they appear in the end,
all presence hollowed out,
white filtered sunlight
spreading like spirits
time bleaching corners and doorways, rooms
once again abandoned shells
where his last words
came in from the outside.
