Six Feet Under

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The pile of letters
still there where I left them
the half empty bottle of coke
a delight for the ants all over it
the stale air, hanging humidity
dust covering the books protectively
reminders that I left in a rush
for a burial

Opening the window
choking fresh air
a hideous laugh
at good old reality

Sitting in a now tidy room
the familiar whirring of the fan
friendly broken paint
a patchwork of imagination
a cat creeps up on me
what got left behind?
below the earth laid to rest
a fistful of memories

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