Corner Pocket

I spend every morning with you

even though you’re never here

yesterday I caught a whiff of laundry

and it reminded me so much

of the scent of you, in the clothes

scattered across your floor

I caught my breath on the cage of my ribs

in the morning I think of you

and then I write my poems;

it doesn’t matter if you’re never here

I carry a little of you with me now

wherever I go