A Heartbreak in Every Home

 

A Heartbreak in Every Home

 

More than a pang of pathos,

more like a stab

and the more’s the pity.

 

Your loss is their loss,

you feel a family of two – sitting,

both together alone,

and budding headphones.

 

You cannot read their story in any book

across the room – a look

possibly euphoria, possibly tragedy

whatever absent, a mystery

if anything is absent at all –

a family of two, sitting small.

 

Nothing or something felt

across the room – nothing crimes

committed which cannot be solved,

nothing sins you cannot absolve,

Sherlock was never needed here –

there are no clues to find.

 

Whatever bitterness covers apple rind

can be scrubbed off with toothbrush

washed under the sink; rinsed –

it’s just you who overthinks,

guilty as charged – you seal

what there is nothing to feel,

thieve where there is nothing to steal,

bleed from wounds already healed –

 

don’t send for the doctor,

the police, the prophet:

when you know every home has its closet.