Radio Silence    

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You’re in the wind.

Afterglow of tail lights in a pull off,
vanish with a sudden, side street left.

I am still the spot I stood in then.

You’re elsewhere, husband-held
I suppose.

All of your hues linger on the walls,
the muddle of sheets.

Straight to voicemail, your hushed loop.
I start thinking in terms of years.

The way your nude hand sheathed
the wedding band one.

The way I took to the bottle
and drowned.

Let’s make a run for it.
Let’s not.

Your non-song, falsetto into crushed pillow.
My unconscious body for days on end.

The literal passage of time. 

I’ve discovered a fine thing-
No, I haven’t really.

Just that the wind passes
and you can stand still long enough
to hear a murmur of breeze.
Maybe a pulse.

Or nothing.
 
Nothing at all. 

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