~the presence of absence

There are days

words fall easily

litter the page

like a pale shade

of october's

collapsing color

the dull copper

and brittle brown

gently brush

against bare sheets

still

they never fill

an empty womb

they become

small stars

that lay upon

my windowsill

and wither in

their pallid death

I slip my hand

beneath the pane

so they know

that I’m here

and I will wait

even when the

air is too thick

with attic footsteps

and unheard voices

even when I

feel the paint

peeling back

eyelids to

haunt these

vacant lungs

yes, even then

lah  3.7.12 ©®

Rest in Peace Jason & JonThomas. Mommy loves you. ❤️