Missing you has become
a song I always have on
chords so familiar I sing them along
to the end, to the next time
you're here & you're gone.
Your absence is a hole
in the ground, a missing foundation
over which I-- build-- anyway--,
fantastical structures of toothpicks & pens,
ink making patterns in nothing & then
it crumples & shatters & falls in slow-
motion to fill the hole in my head
my hands holding nothing
ink in air
droplets of something not yet there.