Levidrome

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In my dreams, there is only the quiet

    before goodbye: the whisper of curtains,

        the door about to click shut. What’s left

            to fill the immaculate heft of your absence:

                a cup of coffee dripped empty, a big shoe

                    loosed of its shape — shoelaces missing.

                        I used to dial your number to listen to your voice

                            say, This is Jeannie before that too was disconnected. 

                                When forgetfulness set in, you would keep

                                    asking how I am, if I could play you songs:

                                        Your good girl, your favourite niece. Coming back,

                                            I used to toss your unwrapped presents into the closet,

                                                let your phone calls go unanswered.

                                                    I wish I had tried harder to

                                                        love you. In the still nights,

                                                            I compose apologies, pretend like

                                                                my words hang in the air like guitar chords

                                                                    fading to a reverberation.

                                                                    Fading to a reverberation,

                                                                my words hang in the air like guitar chords.

                                                            I compose apologies, pretend like

                                                        I love you. In the still nights, 

                                                    I wish I had tried harder to

                                                let your phone calls go unanswered.

                                            I used to toss your unwrapped presents into the closet:

                                        your good girl, your favourite niece. Coming back,

                                    asking how I am, if I could play you songs—

                                when forgetfulness set in, you would keep

                            saying, This is Jeannie, before that too was disconnected. 

                        I used to dial your number to listen to your voice

                    loosed of its shape, shoelaces missing.

                A cup of coffee dripped empty, a big shoe

            to fill the immaculate heft of your absence.

        The door about to click shut, what’s left

    before goodbye: the whisper of curtains?

In my dreams, there is only the quiet.