apology pt.3

it's no good when the widow becomes tired of the lover.

harboring tiny hurting things called souls

asking questions like, where are you--

what the hand automatically writes while not thinking, or in haste--

i think, is that the sound of wind?

in the end, it is only the creaking room grown tired and cold.

a dog worries some object, never leaving the space

and the windows become two perfectly healthy wounds.