Perhaps
I saw the grass
around our house
die by degreesheavy weight of
neglect—perhaps
what we deservefor nights dancing
barefoot on swollen
wooden floorsyour lips on mine
in milky sunlight
even as we bothdied of thirst
now I watch
a single sparrow
trying to find
anythingfrom this wasteland
of selfish, foolish dreamsand you
are nowhere
to be found