What We Have Left

swaying like an age-tattered

home. filled with scraps and 

blocks, wavering over fields

threatening collapse, by the

second, grains of what used

to be, filling what space it has

left. lurching, dying last breaths,

it all tumbles down, staggering

as fast as it can get. it sways

like a heart filled with despair.

like an afternoon fog. a 

spiritual path, and an

unbolted home.