EMPTY Poem by Sigitas Parulskis

My shoes are empty, aha, empty are my shoes
white salt lines visible on cracked leather

and my pants, my pants are totally empty
where is the manliness, where is the gravity, when made to
kneel before a woman
pant legs twist intangible
as drifting columns of sand

and my jacket, and my jacket is totally
empty, the lowered flags of the sleeves
beating against turned-out pockets, nothing
there is already absolutely nothing

my tie hangs in the air
oh, no, damn it, oh no, I never
wore that tie, my own thoughts
were enough to strangle me

and still, there, where I should be -
empty, totally empty
clothes, house, money
books, friends - all traces of me
erased bit by bit

I can still see, one final opportunity is allowed me:
someone is hastily stuffing old newspapers
into my empty shoes, so that during the wake
the noses won't be sunken in

old newspapers
with my empty memory