Ever fallen into the space you’ve created?

Like, sold the furniture, given away the dehumidifier,

cast off an extra dish, sock, bathroom scrub,

old toothbrush donated to the cause of grout?

(That shit loves growing a dark beard no matter

the effort. Water welcomes tiny critters.)

Well,

I have too.

The marvelous twisting ways of COVID

includes–demands?–tickles forth

sudden reversals.

That just sounds silly.

COVID giggles at removing the floor beneath your feet.

All in a day’s work for wee virus folk.

Sooo, here I am, furnitureless, floorless, planless,

hmm…less, less, less

is good.

And laughable.

In giant open space I sit,

wondering . . .