How Long
poem by Olga Rukovets
till someone
(anyone)
knows you’re dead?
ten days
says the girl in the diner booth
next to mine.
ten days
until anyone
found him.
ten days
of neighbors’
quick-cook chicken soup
and beer-stained footprints
on lonely fourth floor linoleum.
ten days
until the nasal passage pang
of fetid flesh
could shout victory.
can you imagine?
she says
biting into her bagel.
ten whole days.