under glass,
this is the moment
perfectly perceived—
the apartment
is motionless,
the mangy dog
asleep,
and the light
through its rooms streaming
deep
but direct.
And only
the faint whispers
of tragedy
from the eaves—
an empty chair's
heaviness,
the dress in the photograph
fading on the wall—
an old failure
now somewhere
very far away,
murmuring softly,
cast-off
from its history.
