I wrote this poem back in 2006. There is no backstory on it. I hope the poem speaks for itself.
Zero
How many vacant lots, leafless trees, cold beds,
white sheets, clear skies, fallow fields,
bare cupboards, unmailed letters,
blank checks, incomplete passes,
blurry photos, mumbled insults,
dinners for one, silent bells,
bald heads, old calendars
and empty glasses
add up to
zero?
To read previous (Unpublished) #Poem posts, each with its own mini-introduction, click on the title below:
(Unpublished) #Poem: [Untitled]
(Unpublished) #Poem: “Reading Kenko”
(Unpublished) #Poem: “Five or Six”
(Unpublished) #Poem: “Curb Market, Saturday Morning”
