Carolyn Gerrish

Dark Matter

staring into the void
at twenty
someone may catch you
if you fall –
staring into the void
at sixty five –
just a black hole

window on the night
Rothko bleakness

they all want a piece of me
(she said)   but the last morsel
was swallowed long ago

the never-opened bookcase
glass doors   reflect window bars

how heartening to see
finally   a haikuist
makes the obituaries