Ties on the Floor

i see fluttering

white sheets

torn paper

folded like butterflies

in freefall

soundless descension

there’s black ink

scribbled inside

like names

They are names,

i sigh

in recognition

names i know

my name

every one

There’s no help

no comfort

no words

in fluttering sheets

discarded; useless

dying moths

the last paper

scrapes floor

and rests

it’s like snow

these sheets

deafening: monochromatic

and i stand

silently staring

all lost

in a room

by myself

with only myself