(for george)
It’s the going
the going
the going
the going,
It’s the deadly
sharpness
of without.
It’s the
not having,
the space
every place
I look
where
you aren’t.
Unsettled
dreaming of
the absence of
things.
It’s the trick
of the eye
turning is
into was
and was
into wasn’t
ever so.
It’s life with
the music off,
the soundlessness
and then
the shrill smack
of the high end
set loose on me.
It’s the first day
without you.
