The Missing


Image courtesy of Corbis





































    There was wonder
    in the whyness of our lives:

    The prophesies of
    gnarled and riven trees;
    the strangulating
    sermons of lush vines;

    The loneliness
    the catbirds left behind;
    the final raindrop's
    slither down a leaf;

    The skull's wry rictus
    underneath the kiss.

    Sad absence sighs a shadow
    through a door,
    the burning breath pursues it
    till it's gone.

    Tears languish
    in the shuttered eye,
    the smell of seasons
    nets the vapored smile.

    The elusive missing
    glint ripples
    on the drifting tides,
    repose in empty beds,
    rise moonward
    on the barks of dogs,
    draw taunt
    the hanging moments
    of our lives.

    They leave a space
    for roses near a post,
    a patient place
    for books upon a shelf,
    a table spot
    for coffee in a mug,
    a quietness
    for melodies
    played out of tune
    with time.

    These idle thoughts
    are glories in the shadows
    and guard the whereabouts
    of missing things,
    their foolish atoms scattered
    in the dust.

    The roiled and sea-churned
    grains of sand
    lost in the breaking wave
    still crave reunion with the sun.

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