The Tax Man Went
Mucking about
In the traces of dollars and cents 
That are all that remains
Of a life together.
Vestiges, memories
Of worse times and
Not so bad times,
But times that had to pass.
Grinding through
The records of meals and the shopping
And the vet visits.
A humble, lived-in summation
Of monies gone
To construct a house
That fell in anyway.
Entangled now
In miasma and ghosts,
Tripped up in what went missing:
Connection, understanding, conversation,
Receipts.
Evidence of something ...
But what?
And does it matter to anyone anymore
But the Tax Man?