If I Were
Dead, the earth closes behind
me with a snap! Few notice
my absence. This house
empties out, paintings
and china scattered among
friends and strangers. The cloud
slowly swallows my poems
and pictures as domains die
and bills go unpaid. The house
opens to new tenants, garden
paved over for a table; a child,
perhaps, in the upstairs
bedroom. Quite quickly, those
who knew my name follow
to where I am not.
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