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.
That was someone in a hurry to get out. Thief of TV/computer/etc or thief of heart?
ReplyDeleteGreat poem. My tt is here: http://www.aliceaudrey.com/?p=13064
Seems a wee bit depressing -- just who or what was this thief? My T13
ReplyDeletesmiling her best (inscrutable) Mona Lisa smile...
ReplyDeleteLeft, lost or dead because death can be that sudden. Evokes mood and mystery.
ReplyDeletea 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.
ReplyDeleteIt 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.