Untitled 8

amonia bathed in pine needles

bleached, threadbare linens

the bedsheets smell of public pools,

of youth; cruelty.

no flies on the wall

buzzing,

familiar,

pestilent

eradicated

replaced with a thousand tone deaf

metronomes

stupid mating calls

sex-less

indifferent

regular

perfection in binary

each beep a steady answer

there is no attempt to divine a question

cannot be persuaded

unmoved by reason, tears,

untouchable

standing watch, if not guard

bearing witness,

silent

stoic

punctuating affirmations with tiny silences

dividing the quick and the dead

finally singing

the refrain

the same each time

a one note dirge

for the unclaimed

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