there is no place for what is missing here
no empty spot to poke
like a child with a lost tooth
there is no thing to be done
no weeping or rending
of clothing
there is only this silence
this refusal to be there
there is only this word
that will stay unspoken
and yet I search anyway
send out feelers
remember a time
when there was something there
and I can't, for the life of me,
be sure of when that last was.
I pat myself down, like
someone
looking for lost keys.
I just had them. Right?
There is no way to say this.
You are gone.
And the sky is still blue.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
How it Was
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