A glib sky that changes from dark to red,
forests that burn, rivers that turn at the bend,
seasons come and lapse as if nothing’s happened
people post their stuff on social media threads
The cars roll past on the roads as usual,
maybe the peak hour traffic’s a little less,
the masked folks go about the day’s business
and the quid pro quo still remains mutual.
Am I supposed to take this in and to think?
to organise the leaves into days and weeks
I’ve lost the threads of myself, those neat techniques –
I’m less tidy at the edges, less in sync.
Since you’ve left, life’s unravelling from the fringe –
come undone knot by knot, loosened inch by inch.