THAT’S WHAT I OUGHT TO DO WITH THIS SACRED WRECKAGE
soon to dissolve in
a rear mirror. Even
your eyes if I’m
looking, gone,
gone like those
summer evenings
when shadows of
willows crept
longer, closer and
people laughed
in purple darkness.
All of them gone
after the fights
and hugs as you
will be. Sacred
wreckage, walk
on by. And if people
think they can see
my sadness, blurt
“what am I, fly
paper for necks