work is our
punishment
and because I
am not sorry
I mean to do
as little
as possible
eye adrift
like Redon’s
ominous balloon
looking
at nothing or the wall
with great intensity
I want to see
what the cat sees
insect ghosts
jitter of molecules
between dust motes
some elsewhere
that might be
heaven though
no one here
cares to find out
published in Epigraph
Martha McCollough 