Silage

When it’s 3:00 am and my eyelids are heavy
With visions of you
Or 3:00 pm and the light sifts through my window blinds
In exactly the way it illuminates those golden flecks
Into the earth of your iris
Or sometimes
when suddenly,
Waiting in line at the market
I’ll become
So Painfully aware of the space between
My thumb and forefinger
I’ll sort through your worn out clothes
Shoved in the crevasse of wooden shelves
In my minds eye
Or the dirty sheets
I have refused to wash out of my memory.
The trace of your cologne.
The Pandora’s box I open at a crack.
Lock and key.
Too late, Silage.
The impression made
After someone has been
and gone.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

We are not told why leave was taken, but the void remaining is clearly delineated in these lines. The linkage of everyday things with the departed one is very effective, leaving us only to hope the emptiness is someday filled.