A sparrow sparrows against

my window. A dog barks.

It is morning. Later today

I have to. Tomorrow I have to.

The day will uncurl like a man

rowing across a distant lake

while I stand on the rise.

I will watch him for a while

and then take a walk

because I deserve a reprieve

from the aether and from myself.

I will not quite get away

as right now I cannot.

Right now in a faraway land

a beloved man is dying

and I sit in my kitchen

wondering when the world

will join me, interrupt me,

love me, and take me away

from the world I invented

when I opened my eyes

this morning: this lanky

contraption. It isn’t very heavy,

it is just awkward to carry alone.

Could you hold the door for me,

distant dying man? I think it

belongs in here. There. Thank you.

Now if I could only figure out

where to put it down.