A life-note.
A good heavy pair of scissors, a calculator (for which
I have no use, take it,
it’s yours).
A stack of overworked lamps in the corner, unlit,
another dozen pictures of Italian women

taken from train windows, through which I flip...

In this one, the light around her is airport light:

a little silver finch,
or a thousand silver finches.

Her letter from Germany on the desk:

'My life is just necessary conversations'...

and I persist that a sprig of mint
curls on her teacup:

Gestorbenem, Ger. N. Adj: Anything pertaining to death,
the act of being dead, the feeling that surrounds,
the idea of, inspiration for, or actual state of death,

her rejuvination for annual me, signpost,

sleeps with her back to the empty side of the bed.

____

This poem was inspired by the lyrics to 'Kissing the Lipless' by the Shins, and Weather Systems by Andrew Bird. I went through a period of about a month where I listend to only those two albums. This poem is also for a girl who, last I heard, was dating a banker.