somehow the apartment
has peeled away
its ceilings and hurled
all its walls into street
one empty white
doorframe stands alone
in the battering wind
that rearranges the furniture
to better suit this new
circumstance as black smoke
whips across the morning sky
now let us speak of former things:
INDENTthe poplar on the street corner
INDENTthe daffodils in the park
INDENTthe unbearable softness of sleep’s grasp