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
