III
No end in mind
Just enjoy the ride,
I’ll get there.
Don’t give up on me.
I take time.

IV
The carrion on the wall
And your work bench.
The work you put in to things.
You’re so cool.

V
I should have stayed hesitant to venture forth.
Her clothes in the closet struck me but lightly,
But struck me all the same.
I blocked their blow with a heart once gone cold
Now dripping in liquid mercury – alive.

VI
It was always dark, that house on the lake. Orange mesh blinds drawn tight against the sun. Stacks of magazines and chests forming walls. The cokes were cool not cold. They were kept by the case in the back behind jars of pickled okra and green tomatoes. Everything was always years old. The dust, the canning, my grandparents. The earth was rich with purple broccoli, blackberries, and vines. I would walk the lines just behind my father and his father as they spoke like men do. I would fall asleep after rounds of gin rummy and orange juice from my Fuzzy Wuzzy Wuz a Bear mug. I slept well at that house on the lake. Hard and deep but never dreamed. I awoke complete and whole, at peace. I used to dream restless in the house of my youth. The shadows forming. I sleep well in this house. Robert’s death built my fence. My father’s sweat and even more of mine put in to the walls and earth. For now, I am home.