Downtown Office as Abscess
 

This was a      Tuesday afternoon
Visit to the       new office,

tracing a

   soft path

thru a

     matrix

   of absence:

sprawling twelfth floor

prime Manhattan real estate,

drywall panels with
edges that slice thru

glass     cash     and plaster,

    a grand vacated

ritual geometry
whose hex

protects it from

    any incursion:

    moisture, pollen,
    grace, reference —

    This space is a

    dead unfixed
    future memory of the
limp handshake,
rot in the fridge,

    the day
         the last of us

     says goodbye,

    a sterile volume
        crudely extracted
           from memory,
           a sharp-framed
              avatar of
                captured
                   tortured
                 sky.