The emptiness between Hemingway’s words is a
  hollow sound that stays in your mind

The space creates distance as the Old Man wanted,
  from the reader and the ****** of pain

“Distance from the day he fought and struggled
   to land that one great fish

“Distance from a soldier’s final battle, calling out
   from beyond his reach

“Distance from the arena where the horns got close,
   with death again denied

“And distance from the many women he tried to
   desperately love and failed”

Each city his refuge: Paris, Havana, and Ketchum,
  but in no place were his memories home

And giving in to the distance, setting the ghost free
   —his bell tolled one last time

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)