Shed

one day

after it all shut down

the ghost of

some other ghost

was found

inside

its own

box

a toolbox

a rusty

metal case

there's a moment here

dislocated from

every other

moment

doesn't matter

will not ever matter

a luxury

of fangs and

fur

the loss is never

located

the next

phase is

dreamtime/junk-drawer

evenings

spent looking

for a wadded-up

check

one

point

or place: this

shed

this

skull full of

what

you don't want

what you find

after a night of sweating it out

eyes on you

and all your

want and

then all of a sudden

nothing

don't ask me

another question

it just is

it just is