Sun in an Empty Room

Now that the furniture's
Returning to its Goodwill home,
with dishes in last week's papers
rumours and elections,
crosswords, an unending war
that blacken our fingers,
smear their prints on every door pulled shut.

Now that the last month's rent
is scheming with the damage deposit,
take this moment to decide if we meant it,
Sun in an empty room
if we tried, or felt around for far too much
Sun in an empty room
from things that accidentally touched.
Sun in an empty room

The hands that we nearly hold with pennies for the GST,
the shoulders we lean our shoulders into on the subway, mutter an apology.
The shins that we kick beneath the table, that reflexive cry.
The faces we meet one awkward beat too long and terrify,
know that the things we need to say
Sun in an empty room
have been said already anyway,
Sun in an empty room
by parallelograms of light
Sun in an empty room
on walls that we repainted white.

Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room

So take eight minutes
and divide by ninety million lonely miles,
and watch a shadow cross the floor.
We don't live here anymore.
--John K. Sampson
---The Weakerthans

I'm pretty much fully moved out; and John just hits it on the head. Thought I'd share that.