coming home to silence

Nov 5, 2006

Multi-coloured, former salsa jars
purple juice, warm vodka
(still open on the stove)
sits silent. Five empty rooms.
All lights on.

Instead, the cheese is squished between
half-eaten tortillas, perched on a mixing bowl
with waves of whiteness.
Perhaps beans, refried, stuck
on the spoon, half-hidden by empty orange-
stained scraps of carrot bags.

Melting. Spinach. On the floor.
Must have missed the garbage on the way.
Arm-shaped arc of paper
scraps from frying pan to floor.

Judging by the state, the shape
of butter, half-wrapped but clearly sitting
in our dog’s bowl
they left
less than an hour ago.