Select Page

I wrote this in a coffee shop in Ithaca, NY after wandering the Commons for an hour or two while my daughter and her friend were at a concert … missing the immediate company of my wife.

Defecit —
A Journey …

Aware of the warmth of a Spring day
a sentiment lacks

With both eyes open
the world is slightly … two-dimensional

With both ears
some sound is missed or missing
a molecule here and there

Left, then right, then left again
a step feels skipped
like a record ith an invisible scratch

I count objects everywhere
Signs, bricks, people, things in one window after another
The inventory never complete, always short of what is expected

The evening lights arise without notice
their power somehow diminished
from promised lumens

I am present in the here and now
– I swear –
yet part of me is elsewhere

A missing element in my cosmos
slips in time
dark matter
all unaccounted

Never whole without my other,
the dearest part of my self.

i long to return home to you.