The many textures of absence

absence is a toothache

the tongue, a snake searching for prey

absence is a severed limb

echoing the intent of things it once did

absence is a flower

all petals fallen, the bud burnt, bowed and defeated

In these days of absence

I have become a tired river, I meander,

curl back on words and thoughts,

remember old cliffs and rocks,

the cover of cool places lost

as the sun discovers a way to expose me again

I have begun to sleep

while standing, while talking

while laughing at the day to day excuses

of how we pass the time while watching the slow fade

of memories that become absent

because they can no longer accumulate

like the time my father died and I realized

I would never hear his voice

never again see him smile

nor know the touch of his hand

or the gentle rise of his right eyebrow

like the earth stranded beneath the sun

baked, fried, defeated

and the clouds remain absent

and the only shade

is in the heart of the deep cracks that split me apart

even as I wait