He is a hole in my heart,
a hard breath,
a slump of the shoulders a
smile that Cheshires away
A determined scowl at the plate,
the line of scrimmage,
a song in the digital sea
A breathtaking embrace,
a joke that now
someone else must tell
We are fortunate beings;
the mind keeps us in mind.
We fill up on the daily particles:
errands, assignments, protocols,
our tumblers too full for bitters
But the busiest of lives finds a
sandbar, and the
space fills up with souvenirs,
visitors at a clinic,
dosing our griefs like
intravenous drips
Kyle left us too soon,
long before he was
due at the station,
and now we live in parentheses
(cartoon eyes, bobbing voice a
tear on the page,
memory’s whisper a
poem that demands to be
written, a pen that
runs out of
