she is late, or missing, or lost
[from a second wave – poetry]
it is not the kiss i miss
nor the hand in pocket
heart-shaped mind bending love
it’s all of it
everything
that’s missing
the bed of great size
still made up on one side
the coffee for one
and reading aloud to myself alone
she’s taking her own sweet time getting here
perhaps my notes are not making it through
or maybe i’m not ready yet
for the explosions in the sky
to rip smack the smile off my face
and leave me breathlessly chasing
every second together
and aching with anticipation
any time we’re apart
i’ve known love
felt the deepest ocean of loss
at just saying good-bye
as we leave for work
i want you to be my
be my
something’s broken this time
as the poetic and the authentic
are vastly distant realities
and this hole in my heart
is also a joy
a love that i long to give again
more than words
and love letters
more than aspirational longing
a love poem without a receiver
is an arrow shot into the night sky
hoping to bring down a star
exclaiming to god and the whispering trees
how love is good
and how i am ready
and she is late
or missing
or lost
somewhere
this night she is not reading love poems
she shines and sparkles with friends
while my missiles land around her
without voice or sound
i
ready
this
night
alone
and sharpening
each vowel
for impact
i let go yet another
11-26-14
image: new years 007, timber tank, creative commons usage
