A few minutes ago, I stepped onto the deck
of the house.
From there I could see and hear the water,
and everything that's happened to me all these years.
It was hot and still.
The tide was out.
No birds sang.
As I leaned against the railing
a cobweb touched my forehead.
It caught in my hair.
No one can blame me that I turned
and went inside.
There was no wind.
was dead calm.
I hung the cobweb from the lampshade.
Where I watch it shudder now and then when my breath
A fine thread.
Before long, before anyone realizes,
I'll be gone from here.