The dim shattering character of nerves
which creates faces in the dark
speaks of the heaven and hell
as a form of corporate existence.

Oh don’t say it isn’t so,
think to understand if
the last time you looked
you were still a man.

It is a viscous form of self-
propulsion that lets the feet grip
the floor, as the head 
lifts to the door,

lurches, ghostwise, out, and to
the window to fall through,
yet closes it to let
the cat out too.

After that, silence, silence.
On the floor the hands
find quiet, the mouth goes lax.
Oh! Look forward to get back.

Oh wisdom to find fault with 
what is after all a plan.