in every dream, a house;
in every room, a hole: a
broken floor, an exposed pipe, a
gaping window wanting to be a door.
at the end of a life, last words
are overrated: i’m so confused;
i’m in trouble; get the hell away
from me. it’s not like the movies.
you better hope you made your
amends, exchanged embraces,
made your love known while there
was still clarity. the last gasping
moments are not made for love.