The only time capsule
I ever buried
is decomposing
in the bottom of my belly
filled with the different ways
I have not been able to
cope with loss
It resurrects names
remembers faces
who are changing
and living in different states
while I am still trying to digest
their absence
It looks for the bundle of fur
that once modeled a now
empty, worn collar
unable to comprehend
only one set of brown eyes
gazing up from the floor
during Sunday morning coffee
It is learning to accept its reflection
could just as easily be
a shadow
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
The only time capsule
I ever buried
is decomposing
in the bottom of my belly
filled with the different ways
I have not been able to
cope with loss
It resurrects names
remembers faces
who are changing
and living in different states
while I am still trying to digest
their absence
It looks for the bundle of fur
that once modeled a now
empty, worn collar
unable to comprehend
only one set of brown eyes
gazing up from the floor
during Sunday morning coffee
It is learning to accept its reflection
could just as easily be
a shadow
This poem follows up last weeks poem, Whisper II. 2014 has proved a somewhat difficult year.
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