STILL
Life lies as still
as the
mirrored reflection
of a blank wall,
as the
hands of the unwound
mantle clock,
waiting silently
for the return
of something…
anything
that feels real
not this limbo
that seems
never-ending…
the quiet
of empty rooms
is deafening
listening for any
sound that would
signal
your return…
even that rumble
your engine made
that told me you
were traveling
down my street
would be
sweet music
to my longing ears…
holding my breath
as the phone rings
praying it's you,
as I look through
my mailbox
just hoping for
an envelope
holding a note
saying
you're asking me
back into your life…
but no,
there is nothing
of you to be
found and
everything
is still...
still silent
still haunted
still waiting
still alone
still…
K. Tate Jacoby
copyright Aug. 30, 2011
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