when you live alone
you come to expect
the corners of your house
to take your picture,
but a flash of detergent bottle
that outlives his name begins
to taunt me from under kitchen sink,
whenever i open the doors FLASH!
how juvenile, to stomp on high places
between our jambs; we are a four-legged blur,
of dancing grown ups taking pictures
of kids on a stair step taking pictures.
how dare you say his name.
you cannot take it!