Lost & Found


             “Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdito.”

Tonight is the saddest line:
it is, for example, a whisper torn against
a yearning sky; a premature hush across
an expanse of expectation,
shattered in the distance with
not even a glimpse of her infinite eyes.

Do you think that you did not have her?
Do you worry that you have lost her?

A tombstone night stippled with shards.
An open, stifling yawn of want and wondering,
forsaken but not alone.

He is an unbitten apple,
a blind, unseparated blend of red and
green, grinning
and stutter-stepping

like a started symphony
found while waiting.

[for Kristen, Tim, and Aidan Pearce]

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