While you are away, I go out
into the sunless morning.
The door that closes behind me
closes forever. The house is an echo
and the silent windows reflect
only the vacant, untended garden.
I have nowhere to go
but I get into the car and drive.

All the signs are stop signs.
People in the village stop, stare
as I pass, seeing only half of me.


(Originally Published: Front Porch Review, January 2016)


One thought on “Disappearance

  1. He Left

    The number of a friend who does plumbing and electric
    The number for a counselor in Blacksburg
    A burned piece of bread left in the toaster
    A closed door to a room upstairs
    A note in red ink about kissing
    An abstract painting I don’t understand

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