1 minute read
Talking Out Loud
In the bathroom a toothbrush hardens, leaning against mine in a glass.
Poetry Donna Faulkner née Miller
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Rangiora, New Zealand
Friends armed with casseroles and bin bags arrived this morning.
Spectacles perch an open book by your chair.
In bed, old spice fades, the dent in the sheet bounces back.
“I flicked on the light as you passed” “I kissed away tears as you wept ”
Gathering up boots and shoes and jackets hung with ties in the wardrobe.
A whirlwind wiping as they went. I am not ready for their best intentions.
Cards clutter the mantle gathering dust.
A letter waits in the mailbox, A bill in your name. Hidden safe in shared spaces, remnants of you vanishing. I cannot sense you here anymore.
“I dropped a feather on the doorstep as I left ”
