I am now 
nose to wall 
with this thing 
no more mirrors 
no windows and 
no doors just 
me staring at 
me naked now 
no fresco no 
panorama no graffiti 
not even lessons 
scribbled in chalk 
just this wall
one blank wall 
not even staring 
or even looking 
just this one 
wall of me 

This tired
is a
different tired
the type 
I think 
that trees 
have felt 
surviving the 
woodman’s ax
when all 
the others 
have fallen 
been made 
into other 
things and 
this tree
standing now 
in clearing 
where once 
was forest
and now 
just a 
forgotten tree 

It’s the leash
and the collar
which was worn
now just hang
on some peg
and when spied
can still hear 
the thumpity thump 
of wagging tail 
of once joy
now gone silent 
leash or collar 
ring or picture 
that loss of 
thing or someone 
that hole holds
a special place 
that nothing never 
will ever fill
and how does 
the heart beat
after it’s broken 

If it were
then it would 
but this was
and this will 
gnaw at me 
whittle me down 
from the tree
to the twig
it does nothing 
ever to nurture 
this nature me
it doesn’t prune 
or even shade 
but rather ignore 
and let wither
within and without 

Is this emptiness 
nothing then or 
was it something 
once no longer 
when exactly does 
empty happen before 
or after fulfilled
am I then 
a balloon or
a hole dug
a cup whose 
only reminder of 
once being filled 
are lipstick kisses