It’s too quiet here despite
the mutterings of the furnace, angry
at me?  At nothing.
There’s the jackhammer on the stale
gray concrete just outside;
I feel it more.
There’s the pounding rushing
feet stampeding all around my knotted immobility racing my
heart my hurt-- still    

it’s silent,

as I stare into the empty

void

devoid
of you.