March 1, 2017Poem
Reaching out into darkness
naturecitymemorytimemortality
No indentations
Creases, folds or any sign
A head had lain there
Smooth white sheets
Crisp dry linen
Fresh as a spring morning
In cool mountain air
Cotton covers and soft cushions
Needful decoration
Tastefully positioned
Against the headboard
A religious rite
Of passage
Even as they lie
Unused
Unsoiled
Her pillowcase
Is changed with his
Just as it always was
Standards of living
Kept for some reason
Believing
It reflects well
On him
On her
Even as he lies
On the very edge of the bed
Barely sleeping
Reaching out into darkness
Blind fingers
Brushing fine cotton
Consolation
On a cold night
Imagination
Is a strange thing
Just for a moment
It is reassuring
To touch her hair
Before he remembers
She is no longer there.