Poets on the Page suggested today that we write into the void, into a place of empty darkness. I kept thinking that I didn’t want to go there, but once the seed was planted, this vers beaucoup came into being.
There’s a lot of dry rot around the mail slot
Where I once got the note you wrote.
The coat you wore is still on the floor
By the door. I sigh and whisper, “Goodbye.”
They advise I forget your wise eyes
The color of summer skies. I can’t forget you yet.
I get mad that you never had
A chance to be a dad. You would have been good.
I was fine with your hand in mine, on cloud nine
When we would dine on pizza and beer. Everything was clear,
When you were near. Now you’re gone and life goes on,
Still I’m drawn home to your room instead of your tomb.
I look for you there and I stare unaware.
In despair, I wait. But I’m too late.
Your fate sealed as you wheeled your truck
Afield. I still miss you. With love, Your Sis.