Infinite: in-finite, to dwell
inside what ends. On the other
hand, it’s endless, the falling
that never stops: leaves from
trees, hair from our heads, teeth
loosening throughout the terrible
funhouse interior of the mouth.
How to go on and say I go on,
how to keep coming back or
pressing re-start? Every day
I brush handfuls of dead
cells from the carpet. I look
briefly in the hallway mirror
each time I leave the house.
In response to Via Negativa: Yucca moth.