Cut the paper. Cut
the sections, the days
lose them one
by one, until no
letters remain. Cut
the neighbors, watch
them blurred behind
the glass. Walk
the loneliness
of a city emptied, a
modern Pompeii. Leave
your footprint in
ash. Your hand
upraised—you look
surprised.
Song burned
on lips, trapped
in the slow stuttered
breath behind
your mask.
