and instantly the home became a cold palace

the carpet that used to give only pushes

the couch that held us together now rejects us leaving us to grieve in unmoving thrones too large and too square

and perhaps most uncomfortably the faces that used to see now only look

and without argument suddenly something you barely knew was there is ripped from your writhing veins and placed squirming and inevitable under the unforgiving incandescent light. 

I worry about everything being right

being just

making sense

but tonight i just peer, timidly, into the eyes of my dead uncle and ask questions that will not be answered

but he couldn’t have remembered the answers even if he were still here

there is no rebuttal for death