It’s been only 2 days without you and I am
mourning the warmth of your body curled up next to mine,
We are spoons curled in the kitchen cupboard,
legs and arms intertwined
finding ourselves shuffling between bedsheets,
we are fixed animation – time suspended until you return,
Funny how absence plays tricks on your memory,
I am remembering
folding laundry, making dinners, keeping house, tending children,
These are the markings of a good woman, no?
So where did I loose myself? Forget who I am? Forget who you are?
In my dreams, I hear your lips move to sound that I can’t hear.
I want to tell you that I love you
but you probrably already know that by now.
Silly woman, you whisper
But these are the
rages in my heart,
as my head tries to make sense of it all,
Poet. Crazed inspiration. It goes hand in hand you see.
Words circle endlessly around me and I must respond,
I am but a fisherwoman casting for lines,
These endless words that keep me coming back,
The proper placement of words and sentence structure – anagram,
Finding patterns and structure in between the lines,
Finding my way back to you.
And we are once again finding ourself
Curled two spoons,
hands over heart,