2002/buttons

Your buttons
pop against
the spinning
dryer,
punctuated by
the sound of acorns
hitting the deck.
It is acorn dropping
time, acorn raining
time,
they fill the cracks
of the redwood planks.
Later you will
pry them out,
a few square feet
at a time,
gradually,
as you do things.
So slowly as to be
imperceptible,
the way you’ve
built your work area
up,
The Cask of Amontillado
I call it,
books and papers
walling you in.
I was terrified
by that story,
another kind of fear
haunts me about
your mess –
how much longer
can I stand it,
what am I going
to do when I
no longer
can?

11/7/02