from the light of that season
between winter and fall
you came and went.
your coming was never marked
by an arrival or a rush of heat.
it was the quietest stay.
your departure was marked
by a floating, swirling beam of loss.
not like losing but like becoming less
than nothing for a time. like nothing
could cover it. soak it up.
how hard we try to fill in these spaces.
caulk the leaking crevices. maybe there will be
another who comes. maybe with limbs,
a body, a mind who can think of me. Another you.
Another you who might be here already.