soft

but for the blankness 

of the empty wall 

near the bed…

with one lone nail

and a single belt of leather

near a leaning mirror

where St. Benedict hangs

from a chain

while I lay alone

and think of dad

dead on the floor

surrounded by emptiness…

it hurts my heart,

the irretrievable past

is gone like him

and the future grins

with an iron smile

filled with hunger