If I Were

Dead, the earth closes behind

me with a snap! Few notice

my absence. This house

empties out, paintings

and china scattered among

friends and strangers. The cloud

slowly swallows my poems

and pictures as domains die

and bills go unpaid. The house

opens to new tenants, garden

paved over for a table; a child,

perhaps, in the upstairs

bedroom. Quite quickly, those

who knew my name follow

to where I am not.