Mary

delineating shaft of early afternoon winter sun,

exacerbated by the icy clarity of glacial air,

barrages through the window, as if it

nudged through a throng for a glimpse.

but the walls, too, are merely onlookers,

apathetic to the unexpected nothingness,

the concave of energy, absence scaling

beyond nothing.

the light magnifies rudely ruffled dust

like decrepit confetti, haggard and helpless,

stale remnants of breath, warmth, vitality;

a forlorn fete, bereft of host and guest alike.