There is the window.
There is the empty tub.
Here is the towel rack; and,
on that hook is a robe hung.
The robbery of the spirit was abetted by the victim.
No one to blame, so
don’t take it personally.
Take a person-ally, one who will sing the body electric; and,
hold them dear even when they diss-appear
like leaves of grass
under winter’s precipitation.
Like snow, so heavy, ceaselessly falls,
a voice sings, “I will bury you all.”