I will tell you about sadness
that is the scrap of flesh on the very tip of my toes
to the highest point of my skull.
I can tell you what about sadness-
when I lay my head back for a fortnight-
missing meals, missing knocks on my doors,
missing one’s absence inside my head,
and surviving- surviving still.
But when I write about sadness,
I shall write about you.
For sadness is also about
stories that were
never given a chance to start.