Thursday, December 17, 2015

Poem for Thursday 13



THIEF

I only know that you have been here
by the swirl of dust motes rising
on a shaft of sunlight.  There is
a hollow place within the air
that but a moment earlier held
flesh and bone and breath.
I put my hand into that place
like a hand into a wound.
I smell the scent you always wore.

And in the distance
an unlatched door,
banging in the wind.



5 comments:

  1. That was someone in a hurry to get out. Thief of TV/computer/etc or thief of heart?

    Great poem. My tt is here: http://www.aliceaudrey.com/?p=13064

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  2. Seems a wee bit depressing -- just who or what was this thief? My T13

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  3. smiling her best (inscrutable) Mona Lisa smile...

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  4. Left, lost or dead because death can be that sudden. Evokes mood and mystery.

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  5. a long time ago I found what amounted to a poetry prompt (you might want to play with this one) that asked us to evoke the five senses in a poem. This is what came out.

    It took me this long to understand what the last three lines really meant, beyond "hearing".

    I love that phrase of yours, Colleen, "Left, lost or dead"--in conjures up all kinds of possiblities.

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