The Putting Away of Things

Nothing is left
but a little water,
some light.
It's what we see
when we look closer.
With a little dumb 
luck, maybe some fire,
no, there are too few 
embers to make anything of.
Nothing to wish upon.
All was dissolving with
the putting away of things.
The world doesn't work anymore.
Light doesn't burn.
Newspapers languish on porches.
Water is dark like a x-ray.
It is colder than usual.
Some of us run for our lives.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

Poem

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