by A. Elizabeth Brown

Created on: May 05, 2008

Her bed's empty
the board she used to color and stick things to
hangs there, sullen
half-filled bottles on her dresser stand idle watch
knowing they'll die futile deaths
alone
stranded
two bears on her bed stare at me
as if pleading for refuge from isolation
so extreme
so complete
her backpack, slung in a chair
tries to put on a brave face
looks important
but it's a front
a facade
You'd think, as she's gone, there'd just be a hole
some part missing or empty or forgotten
but that's inadequate to explain
it lessens the experience
There's a hole in my wall
it's gaping and huge
with rough edges and structural damage
it can't be repaired
nor undone
nor even somehow smoothed over
Even if I leave this place
this hole will forever define me
it's deep and has no end, no finish
So long as I live
my soul will forever suffer
the cold winds and anguish
the fear and exposure
and unholy longing
this hole in my heart has created.

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