Friday, June 8, 2018

Since You Went (Day 506)


Beyond the curtain, 
where the deer graze 
(I am here, and you 
are there), the subtle 
snap of breaking twigs 
and careful rustlings, 
saves the forest (thick 
with vines) from utter 
silence.

Where your voice 
sang, slightly out of tune,
sometimes whistling or 
slurring over some
forgotten words, only 
dead music plays 
on the stereo in the other 
room, but I keep it on for 
company, since you went 
away. 

And, on the shelves,
those books 
you read, into the wee 
small hours.
You never knew I smiled 
when you laughed aloud 
at some surprising joke,
tensed when 
your breath quickened 
during a suspenseful 
scene, or saw you 
dry your eyes when 
someone you loved
died.

Your light kept me 
awake some nights, 
but I did not 
complain. There were 
other rooms, and chairs, 
and lamps you would 
have used. Instead, I 
indulged in your 
dream-distant company, 
always preferable 
to being left behind
(like this) in bed 
alone.



(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image via Imgur

Dedicated to Anthony Bourdain, 
whom I never met, but (like millions 
of his other fans) somehow felt I knew.
He scattered joy.