Moments like these we will not remember,
will not be photographed
or documented in anyway.
The radio in there tuned to WNYC,
intermingling with the music in this room.
“Has so far agreed only to release the redacted version…”
“Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, dum, dum, dum…”
In dish gloves and with a fork in your hand,
you say to the big cat:
“There is no more. You ate all of it.”
I read somewhere that Mozart
was humming the timpani from the Requiem
when he took his last breath.
I wonder what he was doing
when he composed other melodies.
Perhaps the singsong of a peddler
through his open window,
mixing with the sound of his wife
telling their youngest son:
“There is no more, You ate all of it.”
And M. without his camera.