I've not been visited yet
by those angels of forgetfulness
who bring relief in tiny packages
of moments where memory rests.
I've yet to wake up in the darkness,
thinking I hear your gentle breathing,
or the soft clink of your collar
on the cool floor.
I've yet to get up in the darkness,
moving with slow, shuffling feet
so to step over your sleeping body
that is no longer there.
In waking hours, I remember;
In sleep, I remember---
so that even the fleeting twilight of awakening
brings no solace of belief
you're not gone
Nowadays, memory fails me sometimes,
but not in this
Forgetfulness fails me now.
Your absence is wedded to my breathing,
so integral to my presence,
there can be no vestige
of blissful unknowing
Copyright © 7-15-07