Blank Space

And nobody’s wind.

fantastic smoke flow on black background in evening

It was the last evening of the break, and it was nothing.

How I loved it, remembering now. 

The walks we took back and again to the car, checking

on things we forgot, returning empty-handed to share

our mutterings with the cat and laughter over

your particular socks and your ice cream

and the way you pretended not to sleep

and the show we watched was stupid

and we kept on repeating its lines

laugh-crying over nothing and I didn’t even write

a page, only opened a file and closed it

I could feel the time closing for this and now wonder

if it’s what’s left undone in a place that sanctifies. 

I will miss this, the lack of pretense

that we were anything but here

breathing in it.

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

3 thoughts on “Blank Space”

    1. A hauntingly powerful phrase: “every moment consumed before it’s birthed.” Thank you for this, Michael.

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