I’ve washed folded and put away

I’ve washed folded and put away

I’ve washed folded and put away

I’ve washed folded and put away
Rearranged a few shelves
Filled and emptied the dishwasher
Read the paper
Glanced at the crossword
And still the hollow house
shrieks
for you
the gaping rooms
refusing to let me be
in what was – until this morning – ours
Even outside
The dying light conjures you
among carrots, roses, garlic
Denying any of it
Is here for me
Alone
An Cala – the haven – fat chance
Another death – another resurrection
Only then will our place
Become my place
So I can be here
Myself

30 June 1997 After H left for the MV Snow Delta