The Unfinished is Nothing (Chinese fortune cookie)
by Susan Moorhead
Leave the dirty dishes soaking in a clouded
sink, leave a drawer half open, one arm of the sweater
dangling, the closet door ajar, the bed unmade.
Let your sentence trail off into an incomprehensible
mutter, leave a thought without a conclusion, let the song
dwindle into a hum. Don't finish the book, don't mark
your place, say the prayer without an amen, write the letter
without a signature, leave the bow untied, the gift unwrapped.
So much better, the thought unspoken, your fingerprints
in the dust, only an echo of footsteps in the hallway, mark
of toes in talcum powder on the bathroom floor, the radio
on mid station, the tune off key, the chorus
forgotten.
Leave the clocks unwound, the tasks unfinished, no end
is inevitable; tell the day that night has cancelled, tell
the listeners only half the story.