It’s the smoke off a cigarette
the trail of a comet tailing
the way the residue of breathing
hangs in cold dawn air
it’s the look of knowing
shared between two lovers
the way a caress skims the skin
leaves a tingle after-flowing
it’s the way gnats swarm in evening air
the way a child heaves after crying
it’s the way a tear travels a cheek
drips into space
only the groove of wet remains
or maybe
it’s the way a dog cries and whines
the lingering tones of need after
the owner is gone
May 18, 2010 (at dusk)
The puzzle piece missing
is still not speaking toward
finding itself anytime soon.
The roses were a beautiful
symbol of the nothing they
meant to be before becoming
just simply what they were.
The apology was its own
magnificent accomplishment
diminished by being less
than it probably meant to be
in the beginning when it felt
more sincere and right, unforced.
The ending was quick before
its long decline into other places
of memory and time twisted to
make it prolong itself indefinitely.
The puzzle piece missing
is still not speaking toward
finding itself anytime soon.
Marissa Colleen Mullins 