Kyle

 

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