Your Absence Draws Water from my Well of Words
He wasn’t real all along the wayContours blurring hear and thereTracing the silent furniture,As if a hug would make him dissolveInto molecules in the thin air.Yet he argued his presenceThrough his play of alphabetsPoetry hidden in diaries and pocketsPieces of his mind peeping inLike a cat through the kitchen windowAfter the lunch hour. The remnant of warmth after a feverThe dust of rolled rubber…
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