Across the room the curl of your lip, 5.
After we are gone nobody will remember, 20.
And yet, like radioactively dyed tapeworms, 58.
As long as your ghost is planning to stay, 53.
At least I have a record of your handwriting, 61.
Back in my carnivorous days, 34.
Behind the frayed lace curtains of my brooding bleeding soul, 54.
But I don’t own a patent leather fedora, 23.