During Your Absence We Hung a Marionette in Front of the Television

While you slept we lit candles and ate
dinner in silence.

When you were missing, we gave quarters
and oranges to your effigy.

As you fought in the heat, we balanced
our checkbooks.

Waiting for your arrival, we cleaned the living room
and buried the jewelry in the basement.

That time you disappeared, your hat wobbled
above the chair for a second before it fell.

The days you melted we caught you in saucepans
under the card table.

The soil piling above you, we agreed you were lucky
to have the phone.

The bulb cracked and blew. The room was dark. We
rushed for an early summer release.

After you pulled from the driveway, we went to bed
just like every other night.

The smoke, twisting where you stood, seemed
to resemble you.

A leftover leg, the bone slightly chewed, was
the second-to-last thing you touched in this house.

Your net worth remained. It was less than anyone
would mention.