The virus cleans the attic and heads south. The body turns a last cell into cancer. The ghost abandons all of his old haunts. Silence becomes the question and the answer. The eyes like orphans find the world again.
Day washes down the city streets with noise.
And oxygen repaints the blood bright red. Ray, in his coffin, wears A colored hood and robe with black felt bars. Ray's flesh is safe from worms and graveyard rats. The vertigo of distracting personal woes, And one outside of that, and beyond those, The one that fits the cosmos like a jacket. The serene, tearless clarity of things Settles me down into sublime inaction.