How do we cope with the days after a death?
Empty days. Nothing left.
Not even a funeral.
I see shapes forming inside paintings.
Animals and humans, row upon row.
Walking towards something.
Waiting for something.
I’m looking for an answer,
me and a million others:
Disbelievers.
Deserted lovers.
Dear God, you’d better not let me down this time.
Cracks in the canvas
look like roads
that never end.