Coming home | Museum-Quality Art Print

On overcast days,
plans to wash the long-abandoned carpet.
Flicking away cat-fur thoughts,
broken nail dust.
A cough, quiet
against a white wall.
The new year nears—
still, life resets each day.
No matter the striving,
no trace left behind.
Days dissolve, one by one.
Even the cat grows old.
The carpet, damp,
hangs by the sink's edge.
The washing machine falls silent,
blankets and winter linens
tucked in the small black mouth
of stillness.
A silence that speaks
of summers to come—
where cicadas never return.
Rain thickens outside.
A hand wipes fog from the glass.
Memories unfold
across the bedspread,
entangled
with the distant, broken call
of a partridge.
The trees—
growing / dying
at a pace we cannot feel.
Years ahead,
returning to the childhood home.
No one answers.
A neighbor, unfamiliar, says:
"It’s late spring now."
Eyes pressed to the peephole—
the couple
once briefly known,
long gone.

阴沉的日子里，打算清洗久置的地毯
掸开一些猫毛般的思绪和碎指甲屑
对着白色墙壁小声咳嗽
新年就要伊始
我们的生命依然每天重置
无论怎般努力，都无法留下痕迹
日子就这样，日日消逝
就连猫也老去
地毯湿答答的，挂在面池一角
洗衣机停止轰鸣
衣物和冬日里使用的被套在那小小的黑洞里
随即沉默起来
令人感到未来的某个夏天中不再有蝉
窗外的雨，愈发大了
缓缓擦去玻璃上的雾气
那些真切的回忆摊开在床面
和着远处断续的鹧鸪
愈发扑朔
树在以我们难以察觉的速度生长/死亡
说不清多少年后，当我重新回到儿时的家
无人应门
据陌生的邻居说：
「现在已是春季的末尾」
我扒着猫眼向内张望
曾与我短暂相处的那对夫妇似乎也已经离开此地多年