Sweep all the rooms once
twice, thrice to be sure.
Take out the trash,
make sure every inch
is spotless. Shut off
every light, turn the key.
Never look back.
Your truths and your lies
are in boxes and bags again.
How many boxes and bags
have carried you from way to
way, from bed to bed, from
movement to movement.
Your face is a stone,
and your feet are the ocean.
There is no sand, there are no
cards, there is no house. There is
no more house. There never was
a house. A door. A window.
You were never a Sequoia.
You could never work with straw.
The wind always came, then the rain.
Always the rain.
Always the rain.
Always the rain.
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