Did you ever look at something and wonder how long it would last, or if it was going to last forever? Did you ever find something old and wonder how it could have lasted so long? Think about you yourself, your scars, your patina. Look around you. Scan the room. Think about how much of what you see will last longer than you will. Books, clothes, furniture. All those things might be here long after you are dead and gone.



With my bed facing the window instead of being under it, the sun blinds me at around 10:30am. The cat sees that I’m awake and runs to me, kneading biscuits on my blanket, pushing pin-prick claws into my warm skin beneath it. I pet her cheek to shush her. She circles and drops on my chest in a frenzy of purrs and rests there for a few solid minutes before commencing mega-headbutts. Can I still claim that I don’t wake to an alarm?


No, I don’t miss you. I resent
your leaving me. I’m seething

fist to jowl, wondering how
you’ll get home from the airport

when you expect me there
to pick you up, a support-

ing character,
chain, ball –

Not even
a phone call?

You expect me
to be so effortless,

to wait on you
when you come home?