after death, life is taken apart
*
life is studied with objects
empty ghost-scented clothes
idle toothbrush and shower gel
half-finished box of mints
a leather bag waiting on a bridge
the lack of flesh and blood
collector’s items
lover’s treasure chests
pick me up again
pick me up
*
I’ve studied your remains
the scent of death and preservation in my nostrils
never to leave
my memory, my body
I’ve inhaled the rest of you then and there
in a green room with an ever-repetitive melody
love poured out of my fingertips
into you, into the coffin you
I’ve said goodbye to a part of myself
you were never alone in that coffin
when you went up in flames
with everything you loved
becoming one
*
our mother’s walk
your shattered bones
*
your empty room
an abyss in the heart of a flat
*
everything you own
I’ll trade it for your life
*
I put objects close to my chest
as if they were you
*
the dead don’t water their plants
*
a day that started like all the others
*
took us off the road
*
your sheets and covers
packed in a plastic bag
to contain your smell
your body’s scent
when it had a pulse
the bag is sealed
*
and now you will never change
you will never grow older
you’ve skipped our lives in-between
fast-forwarded to the end
*
cremated our brother when he was most alive
Croque-Melpomene 