louder than a bagpipe drone
she won’t hear him
where she is
she’s not dead
just to him

he can’t keep it up
all night
he’s hoarse
his throat and jaw
and back ache

it’s too hot
and hollow
in the bedroom
he tries to sleep
on the couch

is a chaise
is too short
would be
even for her
if she were here

he has nightmares
when he finally falls
into a fitful one
gets a rash on his forearm
from the heat

she doesn’t hear him
he stops caring
when ghost became a verb