Falls deep into disarray; dishes
cleansed by the cat's rough tongue,
her whiskers skate along the dinner plate's
gray rim; soon pyramids of underwear
rise above the hallway's long horizon.
Days I stay indoors answering to no one.
Seasons change, change back, unfinished,
rooms, half-painted, hold no door frames.
Light bulbs die, the wood stove's without fire;
some days you call, the voices overlap
trapped along a wire: hello / good-bye/ hell hole.
The compost bin and worm box mock desire.
Causes Susan Rich Supports
Doctors Without Borders; Amnesty International, Oxfam America, Barack Obama , Whit Press