I dismantle my premise and turn
to ask my mother. But she is not there.
Nor any longer ravaged by cancer. Only a city, lights dimmed,
on the periphery of vision.
The warning sounds of a car reversing. The white
noise of a thousand
television sets, rabbit-ears extended,
mounted on walls for trophies.
What i had to ask i forget.
But i forget that i forget so i ask anyway: Who
is that man at the door struggling to slip
his key into the lock, unable
to complete such a simple task?
What is the song he sings?
Tuneless and void?