Disintegration.

The day after you left
things began to break down
as if they were trying
to tell me something.

First the cooler died
without warning
and the dogs accused me
of causing the heat.

Then it rained
and the roof leaked
so I waded through empty rooms
learning that a mop
speaks only to a bucket
and a bucket speaks to no one.

This morning
after the dishwater drowned
in it's own soapy water
all the eggs
fell out of the refrigerator
and lay on the floor
staring up at me
with their broken eyes.

Now I fell the old
pain in my rib
which has returned and moved in
to take your place.

Soon the valves of my body
will begin to falter
the intricate webs
of my muscles will unweave
while my teeth slowly loosen
and the lines
on my face go astray.

But, I would have been
no use without you anyway.