...quiet, about a lot of things...
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Just The Blind Leading The Blind
Still no answers carved into stone for me.
Finding myself alone,I watch
the dog as she tans herself.
Almost winter,she follows the sun.
But I am wrong. She is clearly
searching, and so moves again to
sigh long into the pillows of my
husbands smell;his breath, his hair.
She curls around his last worn t-shirt.
She,at least, is grateful that I take no
issue, letting sleeping dogs lie,
on discarded dirty clothes.Somehow,
they always seem to make their way
to the hamper, but I feel no pressing
need to assist them. Let them rest where
he was.She settles, finally, reassured
That he is hers in scent. she exsist a the
space of his lingering memory, of his promised
return. I know he is mine,though, I know it