the morning light will reveal
the windows to be in need of cleaning
a ritual phrase — first things first — said while grinding coffee
will be said
the kitchen will be puttered about
a few dishes in the sink will be cleaned by hand and left
to be air dried
a small pad of paper used to make shopping lists
will not be located in the junk drawer
so window cleaner will be jotted down on the back on envelope
and after the a couple of moments
light bulbs
that the coffee has turned cold
will be of no matter
along the interstice 
This is why I love poetry, clearing house for the soul.
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Whatever happens
Never-ending lists of jobs
Keeps the mind off things
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I just love this. Without the title, it would be quite wonderful, but the title (and the last two lines) takes it somewhere more profound. Thank you!
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🙂
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lights out and sun down
you can’t tell if the windows are dirty
or if the fault lives in
a blocked set of signals
a blind man doesn’t care
if the room is dark
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nicely said
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You have captured grief so well. That sense of living in another world, and not feeling anything but the sadness.
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thank you
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This really takes a few visuals and makes them into monuments clearly capturing the scene of grief, a numb, lonely movements in open spaces. It tugged at my heart, how I know it.
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thanks… those open spaces can be so vast
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Scary huh?
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This is a scene in black in white. Stark and bleak, like grief, but somehow the world goes on.
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it will be there waiting for our return
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The disorienting experience of living in an overturned world.
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a stranger in a strange land
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I love the quietness of this poem. Thanks for sharing it.
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Thank you
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Grief does leave a lasting mark. Afterward, the world is different even if only by one pixel.
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and sometimes one can’t quite figure out which pixel it is
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