I will say one day I’ll count the times
I’ve cared on one hand.
Your pictures will haunt every cabinet in whatever home
I call home. Sheetrock will balance without nails. We’ll visit
the rainwater in the nursing home,
I will say
I apologize. A dust storm
will caress the bathroom. The walls
will fall, floor
Your hands have always felt like a prophecy
drifting me into a lake.