Swish, Swish, 2009

I think I miss you
but I can't find where

you were when you were here
there is a blank spot

on my bed where you lay
hands crossed, always

like the dead, you both were dead
now to me. I'm here working by

myself—loving me. Learning how
he always walks with me, constantly.

A young girl of eight. A woman of forty.
He walks with me. "Swish, Swish."

His robes move across the floor as he walks.
Like a wedding dress. Like the sound of markers

on the paper of a two year old. My love lives
in this city of eight million. My love is in Alabama tonight.

He's speaking to his folks with that twang I loved to hear
on my phone when he missed me, misses me still. I want

to tell him, "it's okay that you left."
But, it's not. A lie was laid at my feet and practiced and taken

for a year. Not eight this time. Just one.
One year. A year for learning that true is true.

And, that's where I belong, as I always knew.

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© 2010 by Felice Tebbe. All rights reserved.