I started with the rooms,
scanning methodically
slow, measured catalog
realizing the dismal dimensions
anew,
remembering when
these spaces
held promise,
Empty handed, I moved
to closets and dressers,
shifting, searching,
fingernails hitting wood
coming up with air
overflowing spaces,
snapshots of a life
so far removed
hands shield my eyes
the sunlight glares,
With only dust motes
I uncovered boxes
started sifting through pockets
removing rolled up lint
and crushed anti-acids
in faded foil,
the carpet fibers felt
a jungle
I was lost
despite my arduous search
I remained just out
of sight,
a second death
pre-mortem.
