waste: shedding my grandmother, again

death in the family

ribcage of coat hangers

breasts a metal cage

head a fuse pulled dry, a tired socket

hallway of repeated gestures

android of fatigue

wire bird

on an empty feeder

the city opens

a deck of cards

streetlamps stretch

in long cords

pigeon, sentinel

huddles in an oily corner

I think of

longing

as a wire bird.

you die

in the afternoon

i‘m caught up in wires

you come to the window

get up, you say

in the cold air

of elation/pain

of electric/void

put on an old tune

wires of dry tendon move

and I shuffle.

for weeks I seek your messages

in low-flying birds

and nurse the empty hallways

of my bones.