Saturday, February 16, 2019

The Eloquence of Absence

In poetry, it's the margin
of the page, the space
between images, thoughts.
In barrooms, the sparkle on glassware.
Always, the place where nothing exists,
as if nothing can be said
to exist, or where the truth lies,
were that possible.

It's the absence that counts most.
Like my daughter moving out and when
she comes back home, returns
to her old bed, it's as a guest.

ⓒ 2014

No comments:

Post a Comment

I Want a Room

  I want a room I've never entered before A pen I've never held Blank paper Bare chair I'll sign a confession, but my st...