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.