how many dark canvases
in this gallery?
impossible to know.
only the holes punctured
by inhabitants trapped
behind these frames
show glimpses
of the walls.
pray tell me,
how many houses
on this street?
only the shuffling
of the wind’s feet
and the holes
in the walls
left open by
watchers of the dark.
if the elements are guilty,
so are the ants.
they carted away immense loads
and left these quotidian cracks.
if the elements are voracious,
so are the termites.
i could hear their mastication
after our shouting and fighting
have tenderized
these burdened walls.
if time is the culprit,
so is the dust.
i can feel its descent now,
a slow, steady ashfall,
covering the floor,
our shoulders,
our ears,
forcing us to speak
through the faculty of tears.
