tonight, like every other night...

my child is banging bum notes

out of that piano in the corner
will he grow up and need an ark
for when his eyeballs bust?
i hope he will remember
the slatefoot kitchen games
and how his father loved him

my dog is dead.

will you be shrouded and feature free

your face still worn by trees

guarded like some holy secret

foreign to my sight forever

small reminders remaining

in my daily reflections

my only map

my only directions
how can it ever feel less
than half of me is missing

have I killed a man?
the question is a sentence of its own
no matter how much reason
i'll never really  know