there is still some semblance of order here
as i toddle around
though your things are no longer here
still, i wade through our history
every day
they descend like ghosts
our memories
and nude pictures of you
everywhere
pieces of us
your tissues still beneath the bed
your wedding dress still hangs in the closet
among the baby clothes never worn

and i have work to do
years to travel
somehow to make this matter
somehow to not want to die
as i fall darkly to sleep
cringing on the couch
sleep
come fast and stop this
awareness.