The Builders Are In

I walk past the bag
The bag of knots in the bushes
They are building a house
Next to the bush
Where the bag is
Next to the walls
That are broken and ruined
I feel relief
In a way
That the builders are in
Next to the broken walls
They make the decision
To go
I have to leave the black bag
I smile at one of the young men
He smiles back
As if his hands
Full of brick dust
Foster in me a comfort
A protection from my own dust
I walk past
Many times
I remember when I did not have to leave what I need
In the bushes
In the dog shit bag
(black is less visible in leaves)
When I could carry it with me all day
And all day the nagging in my head
screaming shouting laughing
do it do it do it
So loud that even the angels in the church turned towards me and laughed

There are fifteen days left in room 23
I don’t think that I will be coming back.