Set me down in an empty room
wash the walls and sweep the floors -
cold, like glass by a winter sun

Sit me down in an empty chair
water in my ears and gauze on my tongue -
spent, like air with the window shut

Lay me down in an empty room
wash my skin and comb my hair -
mute, like shadows in my belly,

nowhere to hide.

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image by Flickr user M Möller

This month is an older poem I have always liked and which never found another home. It was written after the sudden loss of a role model of mine.

Are folks still reading these? Shall we continue?