Poem 5

His last break-in


It's the way they leave the lights on
every evening at five even though it's spring &
the melting snow on the drive is pure & white
it's the same lamp there
in the corner against the pale blue wall
which tells him they're old
not to mention a wreath on the door
the embroidered throw just visible on the sofa
the living room wall is covered in photos
it tells him they're old
it tells him they're gone


the glass pops out of its brittle frame
and lands without shatter on a bed of envelopes
if he's lucky there's a card or a cheque
he sees Doris White's name on a lavender envelope
but before he can fill his greed & take his feed


He see Doris on the floor
her blue eyes staring 
at the wall of photos
she's stiff she's cold
she's really gone