what i am now: some nuisance, some rot
to be treated, a half baked dinner left dusty in the oven
you never turn on
a spring birth, a simple child, not worth
explaining the world to 
now that we're done
a sty in your eye, slight cut in the web of your hand
a useless device, unprincipled slut
now that we're done the view
changes, a candy tray full of ash, a vase of stems
lantern on a bright day
guide on a lit path raising a hand
in a cacophony, inaudible and made invisible again
now that we're done
emptied toolbox, emptied mouth, drumsticks
but no drum head, all fury and no sound
what i am to you
now that we're done