I’ll Turn But Clouds Appear
You gather and disperse and nothing I do salves my hunger.
Where are you, if not here among the roots of dead flowers
or inches below the window’s opening
in the leaf-filtered light. Or spread across
the ceiling, caught in filaments of expelled
hope. Savoring motion, I look up and address the Dog Stars,
longing to catch your attention. But clouds muffle
my words, and instead I turn
to the fragrance of tomato and garlic and spice
wafting into the night. What could bring you back?
Not love. Not wine. Not solitude, nor the sound of my voice.
I spoon out the sauce, cautiously, and wait.
* * *
“I’ll Turn but Clouds Appear” first appeared in Bindlestiff.
“spread across / the ceiling, caught in filaments of expelled / hope” – this captures an experience I have on and off of suddenly being with one no longer “here” in body, yet apparently never far away, hovering, waiting for just the right light to catch my attention one more time … one more savoring of some little episode years back that became a shaping force for my now …
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Those little reappearances can certainly lift the spirits!
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