Y=1/X

Before the angel came it witnessed
two pillows on a bed,
one folded halfways, squished sideways, ruffled
a pile of sheet and quilt, a spent cocoon,
half hanging to the floor,
half covering half the legs of half the relationship
and no late night sounds in the other room.

Before the angel came it witnessed
one wayworn pair of sandals,
still memory molded to wake-time imprints,
slowly shedding leather skin like crinkled leaves,
lonesomely watching the hall by night,
holding down the home from dream drifting,
bound with dirt.

Before the angel came it witnessed
no more meat in the fridge,
in the cans on the shelves,
in the drawers,
in the freezer,
a poor man's vegetarian diet, cutting back, simpling,
huddled over the cabinets like an Egyptian plague.

Before the angel came it witnessed,
an hour earlier, silhouetted in his nightmate computer screen,
a pixelglow of fairies washing over unwashed cobweb hair,
tied back like the tangled emissaries
of mouse, keyboard, power,
of unknowns, the final knot.

Before the angel came it witnessed time,
between the clockhand clicks
pounded flat, hour by day by year
by the rest of life
by every drop of time
by the final stretching pause.