The Moving

I've taken the ghosts of gone days with me
Not to worry therefore
We're meant to move, aren't we?
I've made sure not even a blade of grass has stuck to my boots
My backpack heavy as a boulder already
Before I left
I've mown my lawn
Razed all green to the ground
They can start afresh tomorrow too
Time is an excellent mower
Razing our well-marked, circled in red, doodled and brightened plans to the earth
Like they never existed
Tomorrows are the mirrored walls like in gymnasiums
Showing, proving, hammer-blowing into our heads
The one truth that existed

The mower did not work on its own
We were holding it all along, manoeuvring
Razing to the ground, wheeling away blades of calendared hopes